Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: 21 May 2004 14:13:08 -0700  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: daria@ameritech.net (Daria) 
 

Title: Salvage
Author: Daria
Series: ENT
Part: 5/11
Rating: [PG-13]
Codes: Tu, R  

Summary:  After the disasterous mission on Dorlog, Trip and Reed try
Beta: This was beta'ed by A. who did an amazing job. You have no idea
how much she improved this story. Absolutely fabulous beta reader. The
mistakes are mine for continuing to mess with it.

Spoilers: Notably Minefield, Desert Crossing, Silent Enemy,  The
Catwalk, Shuttlepod One, and The Communicator, but possibly alludes
slightly to other eps from the first two seasons.

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Paramount, not me. This is
just for fun, not for profit.

Feedback: Always appreciated, especially constructive criticism.

***

Trip couldn't get comfortable. He shifted position.  Still
uncomfortable, he reached under his thigh to extract a rock, and
tossed it away.  It was an action he had performed three times
already. It seemed no matter where he tried to settle he found a rock,
a twig, or some other sharp object poking at him.  He glanced over at
Malcolm. The armory officer was reading a padd, sitting still and
composed.

They had set up a reconnaissance post at the edge of the forest on a
small rise that overlooked the complex. From their position they were
able to observe the complex below them without difficulty, and the
jungle like forest provided them easy cover if they needed to retreat
to avoid being seen, and the trees provided some shade.  After the
long hike, the rest had been welcome, but now Trip was bored.

"Malcolm."

Malcolm looked up from his padd.

"What are you reading?"

"Mail."

"Mail? You've been reading mail for two hours?"

"No, Commander. I've been reading mail for the last fifteen minutes.
Before that I was reading a novel. Before *that* I was reviewing the
scans of the building." Malcolm returned his attention to the padd.

"Oh." Trip considered the wisdom of interrupting Malcolm again. "What
novel?"

Malcolm put the padd down beside him with a sigh. "Are you bored,
Commander?"

Trip chuckled. "I guess I am being obvious. Sorry. I wish I'd thought
to download a book to my padd before we left." A thought struck him.
"How are you getting your mail?  The interference isn't causing any
problem?"

"I don't know. I downloaded the last week's worth of mail before we
left."

"The whole week's worth? You haven't read the mail you received last
week yet?" Trip couldn't keep the surprise out of his tone. "Why not?"

"I've been busy." Malcolm didn't meet Trip's eyes. He picked up the
padd again. "If there were an emergency, the captain would be notified
through official channels. Waiting a few days doesn't hurt anything."

"Yeah, but..." It was inconceivable to Trip that anyone could resist
reading his mail for a week. He shook his head. A thought occurred to
him, and he glanced over at Malcolm, who was now studying the padd
with far more intensity than it deserved.  Trip wanted to ask a
question, but wasn't sure how to word it.

"Have you... when did you last speak to your family?"

Malcolm didn't even glance up from the padd. "Why are you asking,
Commander?"

"I was just wondering... I mean, they must be worried."

Malcolm didn't respond.  Instead, he picked up the viewscopes and
checked the complex for any changes. Satisfying himself that there
were none, he rose. "I'm going to stretch a little, take a short walk.
I'll be back in about five minutes." He turned and walked back into
the forest.

Malcolm had left his padd behind. Trip stared at it for a moment, and
even reached out to pull it toward himself before he realized what he
was doing, and stilled his hand. He looked away, trying to resist the
temptation, wishing Malcolm would return. He stood, needing to
stretch. Taking a step closer to the spot where Malcolm had been
sitting, he glanced down at the padd. There was nothing on the screen;
Malcolm had closed the file. The Starfleet emblem on the screen stared
up at him, taunting him.  He pushed the padd with his toe. Hearing a
slight rustling in the foliage behind him he took a step away and
extended his arms above his head, making a great show of stretching.
An instant later Malcolm reappeared.  He glanced at the engineer, and
then down at the padd he had left. Picking it up, he brushed away the
dirt that had fallen from Trip's boot onto the corner.  Seeing that it
was still locked, his stiff posture loosened. Shooting Trip one more
glance, he sat back down. With nothing else to do, and nowhere to go,
Trip reluctantly followed.  Before Malcolm could become engrossed in
his mail again, Trip asked, "How much longer before the sun sets?"

"Two hours."

"Two more hours? I don't suppose you brought a chess board or
anything?"

"No, I didn't put that high on my priority list. As I recall, someone
was complaining that they had too much to carry as it was."

"Chessboards are light," Trip replied with a small grin. "I could have
managed that. Too bad I didn't think of it.  Anything else we could
do?"

"I *am* doing something," Malcolm replied pointedly, a response for
which Trip had no reply. He sighed and leaned back against the tree.
Lacking other options he reached for his own padd, wishing it had
something entertaining on it.  He glanced at the schematics for the
building in front of them, but he'd already nearly memorized the
plans, and they couldn't hold his attention. "Malcolm--".

Thwap! Trip jumped as Malcolm's padd slapped against the ground.

"Am I not to have a single moment's peace?"  The words were clipped,
the tone taut.

Trip's jaw dropped. He pulled it closed and tried to speak. "I... what
do you mean?"

"Nothing," Malcolm mumbled, looking away.

An unexpected wave of anger washed over Trip. He was tired of walking
on eggshells. "If you have something you want to say, Lieutenant, you
go right ahead and say it."

Malcolm's posture stiffened and he came as close to being at attention
as he could manage from his seated position, responding to Trip's use
of his rank. "No, sir. I'm sorry. I was out of line."

Trip shook his head, his anger disappearing as quickly as it had
appeared. That wasn't the result he had been hoping for. "Malcolm, if
there is something bothering you--".

He hadn't finished when Malcolm grabbed the viewscope and gestured at
the building.
"Something is happening at the complex."

Trip fell silent. Instinctively he lowered his body to remain out of
sight. Next to him, Malcolm was on his belly, focusing intently on the
complex.  As they watched, aliens poured out of the building and
through the small gate in the security fence. The sounds of laughter
and conversation reached Trip and Malcolm, the normal sounds of
laborers leaving work at the end of a long day.  The exodus continued
over the next fifteen minutes, finally slowing to a trickle. A variety
of ground vehicles were soon leaving the area, creating a long line
heading toward the urban center.  Trip was about to comment, when he
noticed Malcolm tense. "What's wrong?"

Wordlessly, Malcolm handed the viewers to Trip.  It took Trip a moment
to focus and find the spot Malcolm had indicated. He gulped. Three
Dorlogians were standing at the gate. They were easy to distinguish
from the much smaller Vericans.

"Recognize anyone?" Malcolm asked quietly.

Trip nodded. "That merchant. The one who eluded the police. I forget
his name."

"Corman," Malcolm supplied softly, taking the viewers back from Trip.

"Yeah, that's it. Wasn't he the head of one of the syndicates? Well, I
guess we know who was responsible for stealing our information." Trip
paused. "This could complicate things."

"Not necessarily." Malcolm, was still lying on his stomach propped up
by his elbows. "They're obviously here supervising, keeping an eye on
their merchandise." He looked through the viewers again at the
Dorlogians still chatting at the gate, giving no indication they were
aware they were being observed.  "They don't look like security
personnel to me. I think they're supervising activities here, but as
long as they go home for their suppers, they won't bother us."

Malcolm sounded remarkably calm. Calmer than Trip felt. He knew
Malcolm was right, that their plan didn't need to be altered yet, but
Trip had taken for granted that the beings on this world were less
technologically advanced. He'd been confident that they could evade
any sort of security precautions that might be in place, and could
take care of their business. Knowing that the more sophisticated
Dorlogians criminals were here on site made him anxious.  He hadn't
expected them here.  They had believed that syndicate leaders would
only arrive when they had a customer to demonstrate the weaponry for.
The Enterprise was monitoring communications with the planet, and
watching for approaching ships. They had expected plenty of warning
before the Dorlogians arrival. Regardless of Malcolm's opinion, the
mission's risk profile had just increased markedly. Trip shivered,
chilled at the thought of encountering the Dorlogians again.

"They've left." Malcolm put down the viewers. "Went the same way as
all the others." He pointed toward the line of vehicles still making
its way out of the complex.  "It seems rather odd to me. They only run
one shift? Or do they have a reduced staff in there?" He ran his hand
through his hair, shaking his head.  "I'll run another scan, see if I
can determine how many biosigns remain inside."

Trip stared at Malcolm, amazed at how unconcerned the armory officer
seemed at this new development-- and then noticed a very slight
tremble in the hand holding the scanner. Trip reached for his pack to
retrieve his own equipment. For several minutes they worked in
silence. Malcolm spoke first.  "I've got about ten people inside. I
can't tell if they're the people from this planet, Dorlogians, or
both. What have you found?"

"Same thing. And the amount of energy the Vericans are siphoning off
has increased. They must have a lower requirement during the day. 
They've cranked it up about a third."

"The people inside are pretty scattered. No two together right now. I
think they must be  the overnight crew."

Trip glanced up at the sky. The sun was lower, but it would still be
some time before darkness would fall. "Pretty early night shift."

"I hope they don't have a midnight shift change. That could be a
problem."  Malcolm put his equipment back into the pack, picked up his
padd, dusted it off, and settled back to resume his reading.  He
stared at the padd so intently Trip knew the interest must be feigned,
probably in the hope of forestalling a conversation.  He should insist
Malcolm explain the comment he had made earlier. It had been rude and
bordered on insubordinate.  Trip *was* the senior officer.  He opened
his mouth to speak... and then closed it, once again backing off,
fearing the confrontation and the potential fallout. It bothered him
that he was being controlled by Malcolm's reactions, but he couldn't
bring himself to strain the truce any further, even though he knew he
was abrogating his role as the senior officer.

***

"Do you ever still think about it?" Trip had been mentally rehashing
the earlier conversation and watching Malcolm fake interest in his
novel. Now he could stand it no longer and broke the silence.

"Think about what?" Malcolm looked up from the padd.  

"About the time we were on Shuttlepod One and we thought that
Enterprise had been destroyed."

Malcolm shrugged. "I try not to." He returned to his padd.

"I think about it a lot lately.  Do you want to know why?"

"Why?" Malcolm's tone was flat, disinterested.  

"Because that was when we became friends. Before that we were just
colleagues, really."

Malcolm didn't reply, but he did stop reading and put the padd down. 

"I just wish we could turn back time. I wish we could be friends
again, like we were then," Trip continued.

"We are," Malcolm said, his words not sounding even vaguely
convincing. His attention was suddenly riveted by his uniform pocket. 
It had been snagged on their journey in and was now refusing to stay
closed, the fastener missing. Giving up on it, he began pulling a twig
through the dirt, sketching out the schematics he'd been memorizing
earlier.

"Are we?"

"Commander, this probably isn't the best time to be discussing this.
We have a mission."

"Which won't start for another hour or so. In the meantime, we have
nothing else to do. Seems like a perfect time and place to talk."

"Perhaps I don't wish to discuss it right now," Malcolm said, a little
haughtily. "Do I have any say in the matter, sir?" He made the formal
address sound like an accusation.

"Sure, Malcolm. We can go the rest of our lives without discussing it,
if you really want, but that won't change anything."

"Commander, I just don't see the need to re-open this conversation.
We've already had it.  I don't know what you want."

"I want to know what you're thinking. I want to know how we can fix
this--"

"Fix *what*?  That's my point, Commander! There isn't anything to
fix!" Malcolm took a deep breath. "I don't know what it is you want,"
he repeated.

"You really think things are the same as they were before? I don't."

Malcolm shook his head in frustration. "I didn't say they were the
same. They can't be exactly the same, now can they? Things change,
Commander. People change. Nothing stays the same forever.  But that
doesn't mean that something needs to be fixed.  Things are just...
different."

Trip considered this.  Malcolm's logic made sense, sort of. Change
could be good-- but this didn't seem like a good change.  There was a
distance between them, a formality that he couldn't seem to breach, no
matter how hard he tried. Did Malcolm really not see it? Or did he see
it, and simply not mind?  He glanced at his chronometer-- there was
plenty of time before they were due to start the mission. He took a
risk. "I think you're still mad at me."

Malcolm froze and then slowly turned to Trip, his gaze icy but his
words heated. "Commander, I am sick to death of discussing this. Am I
never to be allowed to just put it behind me? Why do you keep
insisting on bringing it up? Can you not just leave it alone? Leave
*me* alone about it? Your constant harping on it *is* starting to make
me angry!"

"What discussion are you sick of, Malcolm?  We haven't ever talked
about this. We exchanged words that one time in the Captain's dining
room. That wasn't a discussion, Malcolm. That was just... venting or
something. It was good and all, but you and I have *not* had a
discussion. Not a real, calm, 'let's find a way to get past this thing
' talk.  In fact, we've gone out of our way to avoid it. But it's like
having an elephant in the living room that no one mentions. I'm
getting tired of tiptoeing around it, too. I can't discuss it, I can't
even bring up the possibility of discussing it, without you getting
all high and mighty and in a snit. But damn it, it's there. All the
time, it's there.  It's not like we've forgotten about it. It's like a
shadow that follows us everywhere. I'm getting pretty sick of it
myself."

For a moment Malcolm just stared out over the complex they were
watching.  Finally he spoke. "I understand what you're saying. But I
don't think there is an elephant in the living room. Maybe there was
an elephant. But it's gone now, so there is no point in bringing it
up. It would be like saying 'remember that time there was an elephant
in the living room? Let's talk about that.' Simply no point at all."

"But it's not gone. That's the thing.  Half the time I feel like
you're trying to hide from me. You've made every excuse in the book to
avoid me."

"Commander." Malcolm paused and took a deep breath.  "I'm avoiding you
because I need some time alone. But you won't give me a moment's
peace. You want to eat together, go to the movies, play chess, hike on
a planet, go fishing... it goes on and on and on. I wouldn't spend so
much time avoiding you if you would just give me a little time to
myself!  You know, you talk about things having changed. You never
used to spend so much time pestering me before. You used to spend time
with Mayweather, with the engineering crew, with the captain. You and
I rarely did things together, really.  You used to send your crew to
do engineering repairs in the armory. Now, every time I look up,
you're there.  If you want things to go back to normal, you need to
start behaving normally again."

Trip was taken aback. He *was* behaving normally.  It was Malcolm who
was different, Malcolm who spent all his time in the armory, who had
to be coaxed into taking time off duty.  Before Dorlog... and then the
truth dawned. Malcolm was right-- he had been behaving normally. Sort
of. It was Trip who had changed. If he was frank with himself, he had
to admit that he and Malcolm hadn't even really gotten along until
after their experience in Shuttlepod One, and even then their
relationship had involved a great deal of bickering. Friendly and
collegial bickering, it was true, but certainly not the perfect, rosy
relationship he had been imagining.  Even on the day they visited
Dorlog they had been arguing.  It was their differences and ability to
appreciate those differences, that had created their friendship, and
Trip realized he had been trying to ignore that part of the dynamic. 
To try to recreate a relationship in a way that it had never existed--
outside his own mind-- well no wonder he had been failing.

Trip watched as Malcolm went back to drawing designs in the dirt.
"You've been wanting to say that for some now, haven't ya?"

"No." 

Trip shot him a sideways glance that showed his disbelief.  

"I didn't want to say it all. I was hoping you'd figure it out
yourself," Malcolm admitted with a half-laugh. He continued with the
designs in the soil, occasionally stopping to carefully smooth the
dirt to correct an error. Trip leaned over to take a closer look and
then sat back again, considering.

"You're right, Malcolm. I have been overdoing it, and I'm sorry. I
just felt bad-- still feel bad-- about what happened. I guess I was
just trying to make it up to you."

"Commander, I don't want you to try to make it up to me. You can't." 
Seeing Trip's face fall, he hastily added, "I just mean-- things
happen. We can't undo them. I can't undo when I lost my communicator,
and the damage we did then. Trying to make it up is futile.  What's
done is done."

"I know that.  I mean, I realize it can never be undone. It happened.
But I want to do whatever I can to make things normal again."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. You're trying too hard to make
things normal again. Please... just let it go. That would be the best
thing you could do." Malcolm turned away, gazed into the distance as
he continued speaking.  "Just... give me some time, and some space.
Please."

Trip dropped his gaze, and took a deep breath. "All right," he finally
said. "I'll try, okay? But maybe...  If I try to back off, could you,
occasionally, just have a normal casual conversation, or grab lunch or
something?"

"That sounds fair," Malcolm said evenly.  "But please believe me,
Commander, when I say I am not angry with you any longer. I was.
Bloody hell, I was furious. But I'm not anymore."

Something in his voice made Trip look up at his crewmate, and prompted
the next question. "But?"

"Pardon?"

"You're not angry. But what do you feel, Malcolm? Right now, what are
you feeling? What's still bothering you?"

Abruptly Malcolm reached down and obliterated the design, smoothing
the earth back into place. He briskly brushed his hands together to
rid them of the dirt. Standing, he said, "Sir, I'd really rather not
discuss it right now, not when we have a mission that is going to
demand all our concentration starting in..." he glanced at his
chronometer, "less than an hour.  I don't think this is the best
time."

"Okay," Trip relented. "Not now.  But soon." And he meant it.

***

--
Forwarded to ASCL by:
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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