Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: 28 Jan 2004 22:23:05 -0800 In: alt.startrek.creative From: daria@ameritech.net (Daria) Title: Loss Author: Daria Contact: Daria@ameritech.net Series: ENT Part: 3/8 Rating: [PG-13] Codes: Tu, R, A Summary: When an away mission goes wrong, a friendship is damaged, Archive: ASC* Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, so naturally I'm not making any money off them. Please do not link directly to this story without asking. *** They were finished with him. They had achieved their goal, and no longer had any need for him. He had no idea what this might mean for his immediate future, but he was immensely relieved that their attention was focused elsewhere. He could hear them, talking and laughing with each other, ignoring him now that they had what they wanted. He prayed their conversation would continue to occupy them; the last thing he needed was any more of their attention. He couldn't see them, but he didn't need to. Their alien visages were burned into his mind. He shuddered at the memory of their faces close to his own as they demanded, promised, and threatened. The slight movement drew their attention. "What do you want us to do with him, Director?" The voice was hideously familiar and would haunt his nightmares. "Are we still holding the group from the Dalyan Market?" "Yes, Sir. We put them in the cell with this one's colleague. We should be releasing them soon. The identity verification is almost completed." "I don't like mixing the groups. I don't want innocent people exposed to this element." The gruff voice he had grown to know, and fear, was clearly displeased. "I know, Director, but we ran out of space. We conducted several sweeps this week." The voice lacked authority now that the Director was present; earlier it had been issuing orders and commands with assurance. He despised the voice and it's owner. "Just put him with that group. We'll figure out what to with them later. I doubt he'll be causing any trouble." They both laughed at that. He hated them for it. *** Lost in his misery, Trip didn't notice when the door to the cell opened. He didn't see the guards pull a body into the cell and drop it roughly on the cold floor, but Hoshi and Travis did. A chill went through Hoshi as she recognized the tattered remnants of a Starfleet uniform. Working her way as quickly as she could through the crowd of curious Dorlogians, she dropped to her knees beside the man. In an instant, Travis was beside her. Together they stared at the motionless body. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, and being as gentle as she could, Hoshi grasped a shoulder and rolled the body over to reveal a badly beaten face. Involuntarily, she closed her eyes and turned away, not wanting to make any sound that might alarm the injured man but unable to prevent a small, choked gasp from escaping. Exchanging horrified glances with Travis, who looked as though he might be ill, she turned to Trip. "Commander! It's Lieutenant Reed!" Trip looked up in surprise. "Malcolm?" He rose from the bench and took a step closer. "He's alive?" Hope lit his face. "Yes! I...I think so. Travis..." She didn't need to finish. Travis was already pulling at his uniform, tearing off the sleeves to make bandages, and going for the water. Hoshi forced herself to look back down at Reed. His face was a disaster of bruises and lacerations. Both eyes had been blackened and were swollen shut, and his lips were so misshapen they looked like a caricature. If she hadn't seen the dark hair and remnants of the Starfleet uniform she might not have been able to recognize him. For a moment, she wondered if he really was alive. Was he breathing? It was hard to tell. Looking away again, unable to bear the sight of her friend's battered body, her eyes fell on Trip. The engineer had frozen. The look of hope and relief that had momentarily flooded his face had disappeared. All the blood had left his face, and his eyes were wide. "Commander? Are you all right?" He didn't reply. He backed into the bench and collapsed there, shaking his head vigorously. Hoshi started to rise to go to him, afraid he was going to faint, but a slight sound drew her attention back to the man on the ground. She looked down. Reed moaned again. Hoshi would never have thought that a sound that carried so much pain as that low groan would make her happy, but just the certainty that he was alive made her almost giddy with relief. She was suddenly afraid to touch him, not wanting to cause him any additional discomfort. His shirt, like Trip's, had been torn down the middle so she could see the damage that had been done to his chest and belly. His trunk was dark with bruises, and had a nearly polka-dotted appearance due to the odd red spots that looked like burns; she had seen the same sort of spots on Trip's exposed chest. The marks were so precise, so obviously deliberately inflicted, that she flinched at the evil. She was sure he had broken ribs, and his right hand was mangled in a way that was ominous. She couldn't even imagine what other damage had been done. "Oh, Malcolm," she managed. "I'm so sorry." "Hoshi?" Amazingly, he sounded pleased to hear her voice, although she could barely make out the word. His voice was terribly hoarse, and his swollen lips mangled the word further. "Yes, Lieutenant. It's me. Travis and Commander Tucker are here, too." Reed nodded. He couldn't see them through his swollen eyes, but he trusted her. "Where am I?" "We're in a prison cell along with several Dorlogians." He tensed, and she quickly reassured him. "They're prisoners, too." He relaxed slightly. "Would you like some water, Lieutenant?" Travis asked. Reed considered the question and then nodded. Travis lifted the dipper to Reed's lips, and Hoshi lifted his head so he could drink. When he was done, she moved so that his head rested on her thigh, a more comfortable spot than the rock floor. Almost immediately he drifted into an exhausted sleep. *** Malcolm was alive. The armory officer hadn't been killed. The relief was tremendous, and the knowledge lightened the crushing load of guilt that had accompanied the last elusive images clicking into place in his brain. But it didn't change what he had done. Reed was alive, but the fact that he had survived did nothing to lessen Trip's culpability. And there was still that poor Dorlogian merchant to consider. He knew he should get up. He knew he should check on Reed's condition, knew he should apologize profusely, beg for forgiveness. But he couldn't. So he remained immobile on the bench. *** Travis was furious at the condition of his senior officers, and frustrated and angry at his inability to do anything about it. He had known something was wrong when Reed and Tucker weren't reunited with them in the prison. Why hadn't they demanded to know what had happened to them? He and Hoshi had been chatting with the Dorlogians about culture, local sports, and civic happenings as Hoshi learned the language; all the while the two senior officers had been going through hell. He had enough experience to know better. Hoshi might not have, but he did. Why hadn't he made a fuss? He mentally kicked himself again. Unsure what to do now, he sat beside Hoshi and Reed. Not wanting to wake the sleeping officer, Travis spoke in a whisper. "How badly do you think he's hurt?" Hoshi shrugged. "I can't really tell-- I mean, I can see the obvious, but I have no idea if he has internal injuries or not. I wonder what happened? Why were they separated from us?" Travis shook his head, unable to venture a guess. The young helmsman looked over at Trip, who hadn't moved from his spot on the bench. The engineer sat, head in his hands, oblivious to the world around him. He hadn't asked about Reed, hadn't come over to check on the armory officer's condition, hadn't even moved. Travis found this behavior extremely odd and very worrisome. "Hoshi, how are we going to get out of here? I don't think Commander Tucker is going to be any help. And when are they going to let us go? The lieutenant needs medical attention. Commander Tucker does too. They said it wouldn't be more than a day or two, and it's already been three and a half." "I know. I had thought we'd be released by now; that's what the Dorlogians were saying." Hoshi paused, considering. "I'm going to talk to the guards, and see what I can find out." She moved carefully, lifting Malcolm's head out of her lap, and gently placing it on a pillow she made from Travis's jacket. She walked with purpose to the door and, speaking Dorlogian, called for the guard. Within a few minutes one appeared. Travis watched as Hoshi spoke to the jailor, slightly jealous of her ability to assimilate languages with such ease. He saw her becoming more and more animated, gesturing with her hands and pointing over to where Travis sat with Reed in the middle of the cell. He was watching the agitated linguist so intently that the soft voice took him by surprise. He hadn't realized Reed was awake. "Are you and Hoshi okay?" "Yes, sir. We weren't hurt. We've just been held here." Reed seemed about to ask something else when Hoshi returned. She was fuming, but she didn't say anything; she looked down to check on Malcolm, and then glanced with frustration over at Trip as she settled herself back on the ground. "What did the guard say?" Travis asked. Hoshi shot him a look that said she didn't want to talk about it right now. "Yes, Ensign... what.... did he say?" Reed's voice was breathless and strained, but there was the tone of command in it. She had no choice but to answer him. "He said we'll be released soon. Everyone's identity is still being verified." She didn't say anything else as she drilled the helmsman with her gaze, willing him to keep his mouth shut. He got the message, but it was too late. "And?" Reed asked. "Pardon, sir?" "Ensign, I can tell when someone isn't giving me a..." he was interrupted by a weak cough, and he blanched with the pain it caused. It was some time before he could speak again, but he continued gamely. "Isn't giving me a straight answer. What else did the guard say?" Hoshi sighed. "Not much, sir. I just tried to see if I could get a doctor in here. He said no. We argued." Malcolm seemed satisfied with the answer, but Travis could see that Hoshi still wasn't telling all. *** "Is Commander Tucker okay?" Malcolm asked some time later, when he'd woken from a short doze. In his sleep he had rolled slightly to his side, and woken with a jerk and cry of pain. He tried to take some deep breaths, but that only made the pain worse so he lay very still, resting his head on Hoshi's thigh, until he could manage the question. Hoshi leaned down to hear the soft, muffled words. His voice was still so hoarse it sounded painful to speak. Hoshi exchanged a glance with Travis, who was pacing back and forth between Trip, on the bench, and Malcolm on the floor. Travis had heard the soft question, but could only shrug helplessly. Commander Tucker most certainly was not okay. But... his physical injuries didn't seem life threatening. His mental condition on the other hand.... Hoshi wondered which Malcolm was asking about, and decided to give him the less alarming answer. "He's pretty beat up but he isn't in any danger." "Where is he?" was the next soft question. "I need to talk to him... it's very important." Hoshi didn't know how to respond. Trip was no more than fifteen feet away, but he still hadn't come over to check on Reed, hadn't even asked about his friend's condition. Like Travis, Hoshi was stunned at the odd behavior, and a little angry. Perhaps Trip's head injury was worse than they were aware; the laceration was so deep and ugly. Hoshi didn't think so. She caught Travis eye and jerked her head toward Trip, simultaneously mouthing, "Get him over here!" She didn't answer Malcolm. Instead, she gently brushed his hair off his sweaty brow, hoping he would drift off to sleep again. Travis approached the engineer hesitantly. Trip was sitting with his head on his knees, his hands wrapped securely around his head, in what was apparently his new preferred posture. "Commander? Lieutenant Reed is asking about you. Don't you want to talk to him?" the young officer asked. "No. I can't, Travis. I'm sorry," Trip mumbled, not lifting his head. "He said he needs to talk to you. He said it was important. I think it would make him feel better. He's worried about you." The conversation was making Travis uncomfortable. Trip shook his head. "I... I'll tell him I'm okay from here." Trip raised his voice and called out loudly, "Malcolm, I'm fine." Then he dropped his head back onto his knees. He knew Travis didn't understand, and must think him terribly cold-hearted. But how could he tell Mayweather that he couldn't bear to look at his friend's injuries knowing he was responsible? *** "Won't he... come over here?" Malcolm managed, sparking another cough. Hoshi was wiping his forehead with a wet cloth, trying to keep him from getting agitated and aggravating his injuries. He was pale beneath the bruises, but she was sure that the pain she heard in his words wasn't all physical. She did her best to give a reassuring answer. "No, I'm afraid he won't. He's been behaving very oddly. I think he might have a concussion. He's confused." "No," Malcolm whispered wearily. "He's angry." He grew quiet. When some time later he spoke again his words were so quiet that Hoshi wasn't sure she heard him properly. "I don't blame him. I failed Enterprise." She didn't ask him to repeat himself. -- Stephen Ratliff ASC Stories Only Forwarding In the Pattern Buffer at: http//trekiverse.crosswinds.net/feed/ Yahoo! Groups Links To visit your group on the web, go to:http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to the Yahoo! Terms of Service. From ???@??? 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