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“I’ve isolated their bio-signs,” said T’Pol. “The ruins are taking weapons fire. Prepare to land, Lieutenant Reed.”
“You’re assuming they can move faster than these Torothan missiles,” Reed said sourly. “I don’t think we’ll be much help on the ground.”
Vexing, T’Pol thought, how Reed could be so insistent on protocol and still blithely undermine his commanding officers. She gave him a sideways look, an unimpressed one.
“I am not assuming anything,” she replied. “Would it be easier for you to understand, if I said I was concerned for Captain Archer and Commander Tucker’s safety?”
“So am I, but we won’t do them any good if we’re dead.”
Zobral knew that any time he spoke, he was doing so out-of-turn, but he took that chance:
“I have to second Lieutenant Reed’s concern,” he said, in that gruff way of his. “If they’ve seen us in that mortar, we don’t have a chance. We need to come back when they aren’t expecting us.”
“They saw us fire our weapons,” Reed added. “I’m still seeing energy signatures from the mortar ship. We’re just making ourselves, and the captain, obvious targets.”
“Prepare to land, Mister Reed,” T’Pol repeated, more tersely. “Bring us within one hundred meters of their bio-signs, and then return immediately to Enterprise .”
“Some rescue mission,” Reed scoffed. “You want us to leave you behind, as well?”
T’Pol did not feel this argument necessitated a verbal answer; it was obvious the health of her captain and chief engineer should take precedence, and leaving another human in the desert would be unwise. She merely stood and opened one of the overhead compartments, collecting the standard allotment of water canteens and a med-kit, slinging all five straps over her shoulder in a single, efficient motion.
“Allow me to reiterate,” she only said this after the bay door was opened and dragging on the ground, “ concern. ”
She stepped off, into the hot sand, basked in smoke and moonlight. As she heard the shuttle retreat, she removed her scanner from its holster and followed the beeping until she reached the bio-signs of her crewmates.
They were both submerged in a mound of sand, partially to camouflage themselves, and partially as a result of the latest blast. She could see Archer’s shoulder breaking free from the hill with repeated movement, so she stooped to help unbury him. He had been trying to dig both of them out without compromising the protective grip he held Tucker in; his shoulder was all he could afford to move.
“Captain?”
She heard a garbled affirmation, and set to work.
T’Pol uncovered their arms and heads, concerned most with their breathing, and then helped move more sand out of the way so they could kick their legs free. Or Archer’s, anyway. He seemed to be the only one who was moving.
“Thanks for coming to get us,” Archer said in a rasp, trying to wipe the granules off of his dry lips, only to immediately replace him with the granules from his sleeve.
“It will not be that simple,” T’Pol explained. “I gave Lieutenant Reed instructions to return to Enterprise , and make another pass after the cease-fire. From what Zobral has told us, the middle of the day is the safest time to be outside.”
“Only if you mean safe from their weapons, and not the elements” Archer said, coughing.
T’Pol opened one of the four canteens she had brought, and passed it to him.
“Thank you. Now we need to keep moving,” Archer said, after a single sip.
“Would you like assistance in carrying Mister Tucker?”
Archer frowned, but ultimately unwrapped his arm from underneath Tucker’s, and gestured for T’Pol to step in. She took on the weight with ease.
“I don’t know if he’s gonna ma--” Archer began.
Another weapons-discharge came ripping through the sand several meters behind them.
“I was able to read his bio-sign as clearly as yours, Captain,” T’Pol hoped this would be taken as reassurance, as she stooped to brace the commander as carefully as Archer had done. “But both of you are in need of care. Where do you suggest we go?”
Archer turned over his shoulder to take in the sight of the ruins. A small portion of the outer wall appeared to be intact, but he assumed the Torothans would consider it a lost cause.
“I don’t think there’s anywhere else to go,” he said, pointing at the stone shelter. “I’m pretty sure they’ve been tracking our communicators… Trip…?”
“Mm?” His groan was nearly inaudible to any of them, except T’Pol, who kept her face close to his as she supported him. “What do you need me to do, Cap’n?”
“Nothing,” Archer assured him. “I’m gonna take your communicator out of your pocket and bury it. Hold still.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem,” T’Pol remarked, pausing her steps and propping Tucker up against her side, so the captain could have unobstructed reach of him.
Archer unzipped the pocket in question, removed the device, and stamped it into the sand beneath the heel of his boot. Then he repeated the act with his own communicator, scattering the broken parts a few paces to the side.
“Maybe they’ll think we’re buried here,” he explained, but T’Pol already understood.
“Not such a bad idea,” Tucker coughed.
Archer rolled his eyes and took another sip of the water T’Pol had brought him. She watched this unfold, with a slight tilt affecting her brows.
“Shall I give him some water, Captain?”
They resumed walking, with Archer leading the way by less than a meter, and T’Pol trudging dutifully along while Tucker dragged his feet.
“He does need it,” Archer agreed. “But he’s been having trouble keeping it down. Dehydration in humans can be a vicious cycle. You brought a medkit, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. We’ll have to try and make him comfortable.”
“I’ll be just fine right here, Cap’n.”
“Don’t argue with me, Trip. You’re not thinking clearly.”
At last, they arrived on the shaded side of the stone building. It had taken a direct hit and many of the inner walls had collapsed, but at least it was something to lean against. If they had to stay into the following day, it would protect them from the harshest sunlight, and some of the wind which continually rearranged the sand. Their footsteps would be obscured in no time.
T’Pol knelt to deposit Tucker against the wall, as gently as possible. She and Archer had to adjust his arms for him so he could support his own weight, more or less. T’Pol continued to brace him, with one arm against his waist, while Archer took the medkit and began sifting through it. Again, T’Pol prepared to administer water, tapping her fingers over his lips and chin in a futile attempt to coerce him to open his mouth. He turned his head side to side, avoiding her, and she looked at the captain despairingly while he babbled.
“Cap’n, if you don’t mind my asking, how are your hands so soft ?”
T’Pol did not say anything, nor did Archer. He was busy arranging some components from the kit in a line, waiting to puncture the sterile packaging until the moment was right.
“He is quite altered,” T’Pol said, adjusting the placement of her fingers to apply pressure exactly where she wanted it. With her thumb hitched over his teeth, she succeeded in holding his mouth open enough to accommodate the water bottle.
“Good work, but I wouldn’t bother,” Archer said, pulling a tourniquet taut in his hands. “I don’t suppose IVs ever caught on, on Vulcan?”
“They are inefficient.”
“They’re a hell of a lot more efficient than eating and drinking, especially when you can’t . There aren’t any hypospray cartridges in here with straight saline; I’ll have to have a word with Doctor Phlox about that. Now, if you don’t mind…?”
T’Pol loosened her grip, leaving Tucker’s jaw to slacken. The sudden change in pressure worried him enough to open his eyes, only to see Archer reaching for the tattered cuff of his khaki shirt, unbuttoning it and rolling it up his forearm. Tucker wanted to shove him away, but could not find the energy nor the necessary dexterity.
“What're you doing…” Tucker said weakly.
With the sleeve out of the way, Archer tapped over Tucker’s arm and wrist with two fingers, coaxing the dehydrated veins to flare upward. They were, like the person they belonged to, uncooperative. Archer sighed and fastened the tourniquet, to help his cause.
“You remember your EMT class?” Archer asked.
“Must’ve been twelve years ago,” Tucker agreed. “I think I was still a cadet…”
“Good. Tell me more. What would you give your crew if you crash landed, okay, and there were no rations left? You need to give them enough nutrients to keep them alive. You have some medical equipment with you, you remember how to find the cephalic vein--”
Tucker’s eyes glimmered in a moment of bitter registration.
“Don’t you stick a needle in me,” he said.
“I have to, Trip. You can’t eat or drink right now without throwing it up again, okay? I know you didn’t want to spend any time in the desert, and you were right; I know you’re miserable. But I’m not going back to Enterprise without you, whether you like it or not.”
“I can hold his arm in place, Captain,” T’Pol offered, and Archer nodded to take her up on it right away.
“We have hyposprays for potassium and creatine,” Archer explained, as he worked again to find a suitable vein on Tucker’s arm, “but first, you just need some saline, maybe some sodium lactate…”
“I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” Tucker said indignantly.
“Yes you do, just relax.”
Archer’s first order of business was the simplest: sliding a monitor bracelet around Tucker’s wrist, so he could monitor vital signs. Next, he began opening the components of the IV kit, while T’Pol looked on, offering the glow of a flashlight from the kit.
“Ow, son of a bitch,” Tucker said, through gritted teeth.
Archer sighed.
“That was the prep wipe. You need to relax.”
“Would you prefer him to be unconscious?” T’Pol offered, hand hovering near the nape of his neck to emphasize her meaning.
“No, no,” Archer said, aligning the needle. “Not until I’m sure his body has enough nutrients to wake back up again. You hear that, Trip?”
“What?”
Swiftly, Archer removed the needle and replaced it with the narrow catheter. Tucker squirmed but was unsuccessful in moving his arm past T’Pol’s grip, nor did he vocalize any further pain.
“See, all done. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Archer said, attaching the tubing from the emergency saline bag to Tucker’s line. “There were two liters in the kit, it’s a good start.”
“Feels weird.”
“Yeah, I bet it does. Move over.”
T’Pol had to facilitate this, moving herself first and pulling Tucker alongside her, to make enough room for Archer to sit with his back against the wall, too. Archer brought his knees up near his chest, making a perch to rest his elbows, while he held the bag of saline up high enough to make it flow. T’Pol peered past Tucker to study it, watching it pool in a regulatory compartment in the middle of the tubing before continuing onward at a controlled speed. The design had not changed much in the past century, only becoming more compact for emergency kits like this one.
They were all silent for several minutes, with Archer and T’Pol watching the fluid administer itself, then noting the positive changes in Tucker’s vitals. He had relaxed enough to deepen his breathing and slow his heartbeat, and his skin was already beginning to look less flushed. Archer administered one of the hyposprays of electrolytes, and watched for a reaction.
After a while longer, with his eyes glossy and attentive, Tucker turned to look back at Archer.
“Hey, Cap’n…” he said, in an undecided tone.
“What is it, Trip?”
“I was wondering… you don’t need me anymore, do ya? Permission to, uh, go to bed, Sir?”
The sky was still dark overhead - bruised black and blue, tinged with smoke from the mortar ships, glowing with the heat from the previous day. But the stars were visible through it all, and Archer knew his friend would have loved to look up and admire them, if they were here under different circumstances. He patted Tucker on the arm.
“Granted,” he said, stealing a quick glance at the monitor bracelet for confirmation.
Tucker’s head came to rest on Archer’s shoulder, like a familiar holdover from an old habit. They had not gone stargazing quite like this in years. Even though there was no gazing, so to speak, it felt the same. Archer adjusted his grip on the saline bag - about half drained, already - and moved it to his other hand, freeing him to rub his palm in soothing circles over Tucker’s shoulder.
T’Pol was not disturbed by the deepening silence, but Archer felt compelled to speak. Her face was expressionless, which Archer incorrectly attributed to his actions being judged.
“Thanks for your help,” he said. “He must’ve seemed like a lost cause for a while, there. I wouldn’t expect you to fully understand, Subcommander, but… I couldn’t give up on him. I love him.”
“That is evident, Captain,” she replied.
Archer could feel Tucker moving against his embrace, breathing hot and sharp against his chest. It seemed almost like a laugh, despite Tucker’s exhaustion. Then Archer was sure his actions were being judged.
“Something funny, Commander?” he asked, prodding Tucker’s arm to get him to look up.
“Not at all, Cap’n. What’s not to love?” his smile was slack but as charming as ever, and he returned to sleep, resting his head against Archer’s chest, this time.
Archer had to move his arms out of the way, but ultimately settled one over his friend’s back.
“I mean…” Archer began again, when Tucker had quieted. “We’ve known each other for… years , and-- he’s like…”
T’Pol looked at him intensely, interrupting as soon as he had paused.
“There is no need to quantify an emotional response for my benefit, Captain,” she said. “In this case, I believe doing so would only dilute the intended definition.”
“Hmm,” Archer sighed, unsure.
“I also believe I should take over responsibility of holding the saline,” T’Pol added. “You need a chance to have water, yourself.”
Archer knew she was masterful at changing the subject when she found herself cornered -- but this was the first time he realized that, just maybe, the subject had not changed at all. Nor did her tone - she would always be Vulcan - nor did her objective. Maybe she understood this love better than Archer gave her credit for, she just had more practical ways of showing it.
“Sure, that’d be nice,” Archer conceded, offering the bag over Tucker’s bowed head; she took it firmly, immediately. “You, uh… you took your nasal numbing agent before you came down here, right?”
“Fortunately.”
“Good. Then I’ll be the first one to say it. We need a shower.”
He drank some more of the water from his bottle, then poured the last of it over his head. T’Pol was quick to gesture to a second bottle; she had left the others near the medkit, several steps in front of the wall where they settled.
“Thanks, I will,” Archer answered. “I need to make sure he has enough for the day, tomorrow.”
“I brought two for each of you,” T’Pol said. “I would’ve brought more, but I had not planned to remain here.”
“Don’t you need any?”
“No, Captain. I am well acclimated to this climate. Why hasn’t Commander Tucker adapted as you have?”
Archer took one careful sip from his second water bottle before setting it aside, planning to ration it out for the rest of their stay.
“He comes from a more humid region than I do. He’s always hated dry heat, like this.”
“He would not enjoy Vulcan,” T’Pol decided.
Archer chuckled.
“No, probably not.”
“Despite our modern technology, many of our recreational and ceremonial activities occur outdoors. It is free of distraction; this allows us to focus on the potential of our bodies and minds.”
“I’ve read about your wedding ceremonies,” said Archer. “A lot of humans prefer outdoor venues, too, but we -- they -- usually like something beautiful to look at in the background.”
“Does that not detract from the importance of the ceremony itself?”
“That’s an interesting point. I’ve never been married, but I’ll keep it in mind, make sure we have a dull backdrop.”
“It was merely an observation, Captain. I have not been married, either, though I have been… I believe the term you would use is ‘engaged.’”
Archer tried employing her usual tactic, to see what response it got. He tipped his head at her, made a vague expression, and waited. But instead, Tucker was the one who answered.
“Sure am glad you broke that off,” he mumbled.
“ What ?” Archer was stunned.
“I don’t make a habit of discussing personal matters, Captain. Surely you are aware of that by now.”
“That’s why I’m surprised,” he said, to excuse his gaping.
“It would be of little benefit for me to provide facts and figures about our predicament at this time. I had expected you to find the… smalltalk … reassuring.”
“I thought that was you, T’Pol,” Tucker said, putting more effort into his smile as he turned over to face her. “It’s good to see you. What’re you doing down here?”
“She was worried about us,” Archer spoke first. “At the end of the day, we’re just fragile humans.”
“Preserving the life of my Captain, and my Chief Engineer, is a logical course of action.”
Tucker looked back at Archer, only long enough to share a smirk, while Archer mouthed ‘ my? ’ But then Tucker reclined further, resting his head near Archer’s knee. He glanced at the line in his forearm, then his eyes followed the tubing all the way up to the bag T’Pol held, so gravity could do its job.
“Huh,” he said, at the sight of it.
T’Pol looked back at him, not understanding his amused expression.
“ Enterprise is my home for the time being, and its operation is contingent on both of you,” she went on.
“I don’t think you need to define it, for our sake,” Archer said, giving her a grin.
“Speaking of Enterprise, ” Tucker said, “are they coming to get us any time soon?”
“At midday,” T’Pol responded. “It is currently 0040 hours, local time.”
“Well then,” Tucker dusted his hands on his uniform - his own way of changing subjects - “Smalltalk sounds good to me. Last thing I remember, my Captain was promising me we’d spend some quality time together.”
Archer looked down at him, nonplussed, but he did recall such phrasing as accurate.
“I’m sorry, is there someone else’s lap you’d rather sleep in?” Archer teased.
“We’re not playing truth or dare,” Trip shrugged the question off and continued looking at T’Pol. “I take it you’ve never been scuba diving?”
“No. That is not a prominent outdoor activity on Vulcan.”
“Didn’t think so. That’s a shame, though. I’d be happy to take you, if we’re ever on a good planet for it.”
“I think your certification is only good on Earth,” Archer chided.
“But I’m clear to use an EV suit anywhere,” Tucker said, with a laugh. “It’s like being in space, but I think I like it better. Don’t get me wrong, I love looking at the stars, but when you’re in the ocean… all that… other life is right there in front of you, you can touch it with your own hands.”
“Not all of it is friendly,” Archer added, having gone on numerous dives with Tucker before.
“Yeah, it’s just like being out here. There are protocols in place to keep you safe, and if you’re a good diver, you’ll leave everything exactly the way you found it. You’d like that part, T’Pol.”
Her expression conveyed as much approval as it could.
“I would,” she said, for added clarity. “I admit, I am not accustomed to hearing humans talk about their understanding of other life forms so… plainly.”
“I hope that’s not an insult,” Tucker said.
“No, Commander. I admire your fascination with other life forms on Earth, as a precursor to space exploration. A solid understanding of one’s own culture, and the surrounding ecosystem, is the only way to prepare for alien contact. You have taken an admirable position, Commander, even if your methods are - as you’ve said, and demonstrated - tactile .”
“That one was an insult.” Tucker looked up, pleadingly. “I swear, Cap’n, she’ll never let me live that down.”
“I did not reference any particular incident. It was a generalization.”
“Trip--”
But Trip had already decided exactly what she meant.
“She means the Xyrillians,” he said. “Come to think of it, I could’ve done without you laughing at me. You knew how scared I was.”
“I’m sorry,” Archer said, meeting his friend’s gaze upside-down. Somehow, it was easier that way. “Here we are, talking about advancing our cultural understanding, and I took humans back a good two hundred years. I was out of line. I’m sorry, Trip - I mean it.”
In demonstration of this, Archer offered his arm forward, into Tucker’s view, waiting for confirmation before setting it down protectively over his chest.
“It’s okay,” Tucker accepted the apology, after a silence. “I know you didn’t tell anyone. I shouldn’t’ve been afraid of anyone knowing , I just… I didn’t wanna explain it a hundred times. And I really didn’t wanna go through with it.”
“I know. I’m so used to seeing you happy and confident in yourself. Sometimes I forget. I’ve never known you any other way.”
Tucker quirked a brow at him.
“I’ve never been any other way.”
“ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s all right, Cap’n. I guess I forget sometimes, too. But that’s lucky, isn’t it? If I’d’ve been born a hundred years ago, I probably wouldn’t have made it, with where I come from...” he trailed off and looked past Archer, and into the smoky horizon. Archer’s nebulous definition of ‘love’ became easier to understand when he stared out into something equally vast, beautiful, and constant. “My parents had my name changed as a present for my fourth birthday, not that they called me much else before then, anyway. My brother and sister never knew me any other way, either. It’s not something I need to waste my breath explaining to everyone.”
“I respect that,” Archer nodded. “I’ve always respected that.”
“Sorry, T’Pol,” Tucker said, leaning back to face her again. “That probably didn’t make a whole hell of a lot of sense. I don’t mind explaining, for you . When I was born—”
She met his gaze, sternly enough to stop him. She did not wish to cause any further discomfort.
“No explanation is necessary, Commander. When I was eight, and undergoing training for the Science Academy, I found the way others perceived me to be a source of great emotional turmoil. The matter was resolved with the correction of my name in all of my records; it took less than a week. Afterward, my studies proceeded smoothly.”
“I’ll be damned,” Tucker said happily, confusing T’Pol’s translation of the sentiment. To her relief, he continued, “I didn’t know that was something we had in common.”
“Did you expect Vulcans to have a more oppressive view of individualism? In such cases, it becomes a matter of mental and physical well-being, and we would not ignore any legitimate barrier to a disciplined, peaceful mind.” She looked at Tucker, with something almost like fondness playing over her features, “the process provided me with… clarity. I try to create a supportive environment when I find others on the verge of similar self-discoveries, though of course I cannot interfere with their individual journeys.”
“We’ve gotta understand ourselves before we can help anyone else,” Tucker surmised.
Archer realized he would best serve his friends on this journey by staying quiet, for the time being. He took the available food rations out of the medkit - small packets of freeze dried fruit and sesame crackers which required no heating. He offered the open packets forward silently, and helped Tucker sit upright before letting him eat any.
“Where’s your name come from? If you don’t mind…?” Tucker asked, still looking at T’Pol.
“It is a derivative of my mother’s.” She felt the most polite course of action, as far as human conversations were concerned, was to add: “and yours?”
“My grandfather,” Tucker said kindly. “I didn’t realize it was my dad’s name, too, ‘til later. I just remember hearing all these amazing stories about my grandfather when I was little, a new one every night before bed, and I wanted to be just like him. My parents were as happy as I was, to have his legacy carried on. I’m just lucky I beat my little brother to it, that’s all.”
“I expected to have very little in common with you when our mission began, Commander. Strangely, I do not mind having that theory disproved.”
Tucker snapped the corner off of one the sesame crackers, then chewed on it to aid his thinking.
“You don’t mind?” He asked, grinning. “That’s your equivalent to me getting all sappy over here, I’m sure of it.”
He offered her the remaining, jagged half of the cracker. She accepted, on the grounds of polite cultural exchange, or perhaps to signify their commonality. Meanwhile, Archer brought over the remaining bottles of water and the second saline bag, swapping out the empty one T’Pol had spent the evening holding. The interaction unfolding before him filled him with pride, and reminded him why he had pursued captaincy in the first place. The idea of interpersonal relationships was just as fascinating, whether studied on the broad scope of new planets, or within the confines of the Captain’s table.
Then he slouched against the wall again, waiting until the others were through before speaking.
“Maybe truth or dare would’ve been tamer,” he teased.
Tucker and T’Pol spoke simultaneously:
“I’m game.”
“I am unfamiliar.”
“Well, we’ve still got a few hours to kill before Malcolm gets here,” Archer said. “I don’t know if any dares can top ‘spend two days in the desert without adequate nutrition,’ though.”
“Try me,” said Tucker. “I was thinking ahead to future missions. I’ll keep a list.”
“What do you say, Subcommander?”
T’Pol looked to each of her crewmates in turn, unsure what to make of their expressions. She had learned so much already.
“Perhaps, Captain. If you and… Trip… were to teach me…”