Chapter 11: Recovery

"How are they?" Hoshi asked, when she met Malcolm on their way to the airlock. "And who's that mysterious healer?"

"Well," Malcolm answered with a sigh and a shrug. "They're still in a coma, but Phlox thinks that the healer will bring them back out, quickly. Who it is? Your guess is as good as mine. The Vulcans are making a complete secret of it. Heaven knows, why. Maybe it's some of their clan business again."

"Guess, we'll find out in a minute then," she replied with a sad frown on her face. "I hope they're back on their feet soon. Somehow I miss those evenings together. Does that sound too selfish?"

"Not the least, dear. I can't wait for them to be up and about myself. I'd wish to get rid of the 'acting captain' bit sooner rather than later. As nice as it is to command a star ship, I'd rather do it without having to run the armory on top of it. I'll be just fine with waiting until the Buran is finished."

"Hm, 'Captain Malcolm Reed'," Hoshi purred. "Does have a ring to it."

"It sure does, dear, just not yet," Malcolm replied with a smile of his own, just as they reached the airlock.

"Permission to come aboard?" the Vulcan droned the carefully rehearsed standard phrase.

"Uh ... Permission granted, ... Subcommander," Malcolm uttered, trying to get his confusion under control. Both he and Hoshi had grown accustomed to seeing a Vulcan in Starfleet blue, ever since T'Pol had abandoned the colorful cat-suits in favor of the standard Starfleet uniform, but seeing the garment with Vulcan rank insignia on it took them both by surprise.

"These are my mission parameters as specified by Starfleet and the Vulcan High Council," the Vulcan explained and handed over a Starfleet issue encrypted PADD.

"You'll be with us for the entire mission to New-Xindus?" Malcolm asked after studying the official orders.

"Yes. The necessary rehabilitation program will extend substantially beyond overcoming the current crisis, especially for Commander Tucker."

"I see," Malcolm answered with a nod. "The orders say that I shall integrate you into one of the ships departments, so I would need to have your qualifications, Subcommander."

"Of course," the Vulcan nodded and handed over a second PADD.

"Intelligence agent, Engineer, field medic, diplomat," Malcolm listed the qualifications of their newest crew member aloud. "I'll assign you as Assistant Medical Officer to Doctor Phlox's department, then. They're short staffed as it is."

"As you wish. If you permit, I wish to report to Doctor Phlox immediately to assess the condition of the patients."

"Of course, Lt. Sato will show you the way."

"That won't be necessary; I know the way," the Vulcan answered, nodded to both of them and walked off towards sickbay.

"Never in a month of Sundays is he going to hear the end of it," Malcolm said with a chuckle, shaking his head. "Trip's never going to let him live that one down."

"What, that he's in a Starfleet uniform?" Hoshi asked.

"No, dear, that he's a Subcommander."

Phlox was alarmed. The last time he had seen any Vulcan other than T'Pol even remotely as rattled as his newest assistant medical officer, was, when Ambassador Soval had mind-melded with the comatose guard after the Embassy bombing on Vulcan.

"Are you all right?" Phlox asked.

"I am ... all right, doctor. I have to admit that I was not prepared for the force of Captain T'Pol's rage. The information she had to process was of most disturbing nature and considering that she was still in grief over the loss of her mother, it borders on a miracle, that she did not go into neurological arrest."

Now it was Phlox's turn to be rattled, as he considered what he had just heard. The thought of T'Pol just lying down to die, because of the news he had delivered in the briefing, shook him to the core.

"What is their status," Phlox asked with a look at his monitor.

"I have stabilized them. Commander Tucker shall wake up within the day. He will require pain medication for several days as his neurological system has sustained a substantial trauma."

"And Captain T'Pol?"

"She will need approximately 30 hours to stabilize sufficiently. I have left her in a healing trance, from which she will awake as soon as her neurological pathways have recovered from the trauma. I advise to administer a muscle relaxing agent."

"You wish to paralyze her?" Phlox asked.

"Indeed. Parts of the brain that control motor function have been traumatized and that could lead to uncontrollable spasms. Until the affected brain regions have sufficiently healed it is advisable to keep her in paralysis. Your instruments are not able to recognize the impact, which is why the meld was necessary."

"She won't like that," Phlox mused. "Captain T'Pol is a most disagreeable patient if she is forced to accept help from others."

"It would therefore be advisable to relocate her to her quarters and monitor her vital signs remotely. This would alleviate any unnecessary distress about her helplessness."

"Agreed."

Hoshi gasped, when Trip shuffled into the mess hall.

"Bloody Nora!" Malcolm uttered as he followed Hoshi's glance. He had seen his friend in less than fresh condition a number of times, but his current appearance was capable of scaring Klingons. Dark rings under his eyes and disheveled hair made him look like one of the Zombies out of his favorite B-movies.

"Morning," Trip said tiredly as he plopped down on a chair.

"Morning. You look like hell," Malcolm answered. "But it's sure nice to have you back. How are you?"

"Thanks, Malcolm. I'm okay. Just a headache, but Phlox thinks it'll go away soon."

"And what's that?" Malcolm asked, pointing to a container that Trip had just collected from the galley.

"Lunch for T'Pol."

"She's awake, too?" Hoshi asked with a hopeful expression.

"Not yet, but Phlox and the Subcommander think she'll come to any minute," Trip said and both Hoshi and Malcolm were glad to see something akin to a smile return to his face.

"I knew you'd have fun with that," Malcolm replied with a smile of his own.

"Wouldn't you know it," Trip said, but before he could continue, a massive spike of panic rattled his mind.

"Shit, T'Pol's waking up, gotta go..."

Hoshi and Malcolm watched in puzzlement as Trip grabbed the container and ran out of the mess hall at break-neck speed.

"I thought that'd be a good thing?" Malcolm wondered.

"Let's find out in the afternoon," Hoshi offered.

"Calm down, darlin', everything gonna be fine," Trip said, running into their quarters. T'Pol looked at him – eyes wide in terror.

"I can not move."

"I know; Phlox shot you a muscle relaxing agent."

"I do not understand."

"Your motor center was affected. Without the agent, you'd be flopping 'round on the bed now, like a fish out of the water."

"How long have we been incapacitated?"

"I was out for two days, you for three. Oh, and we shipped out yesterday."

"We must return," T'Pol replied and Trip sensed the mixture of frustration, urgency and panic that she fought with. "We need help from an experienced melder."

"How do you think we came out of the coma?" Trip asked back with a mischievous grin. "We've taken a melder aboard for the entire mission; One Subcommander Soval."

"My uncle retired from the Security forces almost 50 years ago," T'Pol answered and Trip could clearly sense her puzzlement.

"They've reinstated his commission for this journey," Trip answered, still grinning.

"Knowing you, you have already ... teased him about his rank," T'Pol stated dead-pan.

"You know me too well dear," Trip answered in a mostly mediocre imitation of Malcolm's accent and started to open the container.

"What is in that container?"

"Your lunch, darlin' and I'll get a kick out of feeding you," Trip answered with mischief.

"No, you will not get ... a kick out of it," T'Pol answered with a raised eye-brow.

"Why not?" Trip asked, still smiling.

"Because I cannot move my legs," T'Pol replied dryly.

"Good to see that your sense of humor hasn't been affected," Trip shot back with a chuckle as he poured the Plomeek broth from the thermal container into a bowl.

"Soval seems to be quite a jack-of-all-trades," Trip remarked, feeding T'Pol the first spoon of soup. "Ambassador, spy, now I learn he's a field-medic, too..."

"All Vulcans are trained in more than one profession," she explained before accepting the next spoonful.

"Guess that's the luxury of living for ages... ," Trip answered and continued the feeding in silence.

"You were correct," T'Pol stated, once feeding-time was over. "This form of care is strangely agreeable."

"We'll make a real romantic out of you, darlin', in no time," Trip answered smilingly, while he gently dragged her to an even more upright position and stuffed pillows behind her to stabilize her.

Before T'Pol could answer, the door chime rang.

"Come," she replied.

The door opened and T'Pol recognized Soval, clad in a standard issue Starfleet uniform bearing Vulcan rank insignia.

"Come in Subcommander," Trip offered and from his exaggerated emphasis on his rank, T'Pol knew he was 'poking fun' at the elder, again.

"Thank you, Charles."

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, she realized that Soval did not seem to be offended at all. In fact he seemed to be mildly amused. Even more remarkable was the fact that Soval was not hiding it. She did fear, however, that the day would come when the elder would no longer show such leniency towards the constant teasing.

"Peace and long life, T'Pol-kan. It is agreeable to see you awake."

"Live long and prosper, Tela'at. It is agreeable to see you in charge of our rehabilitation."

"So, with the niceties out of the way... ," Trip butted in and T'Pol had to suppress a pang of annoyance about Trip's behavior. "What's in that box."

"It is a mobile monitoring equipment. It would be illogical to move T'Pol to sickbay for a medical check. Would you mind disrobing T'Pol's upper body, Charles?"

If it wasn't entirely inappropriate, T'Pol would have allowed herself to laugh out loud about Trip's stunned face expression. He knew that she only wore the two-piece gray underwear, so Soval had asked him to bare her upper half completely. Obviously he wasn't aware that such thing as prudish shame did not exist among clansmen even more so if it was required for medical reasons.

When his eyes became even wider, she realized that although she had not laughed out loud, she had done so within the safe haven of her mind and her weakened shielding had obviously allowed it to spill over into Trips mind, who rubbed his temples in stunned silence.

"Charles?" Soval asked as Trip was still standing frozen.

"She ... she laughed ... I can't believe she laughed at me."

"Most likely a result of her weakened condition," Soval explained dead-pan. "Would you now, please..."

"Uh, yeah, of course," Trip muttered and awkwardly fumbled with her top to get it over her head, which was not an easy task with her being unable to raise her arms. Sensing his frustration, T'Pol knew that it probably wasn't a very dignified moment for him to manhandle his mate's extremities in an attempt to disrobe her.

"Okay, Soval," he muttered with a pronounced blush when he finally succeeded in exposing her.

T'Pol wondered why Trip was feeling so awkward about it. Normally he wouldn't miss any opportunity to admire this particular vista.

Trip watched as Soval pinned several sensors to T'Pol's upper body and her temples and tuned the mobile device to the correct frequencies. He could still barely wrap his head around the fact that the man, who had been Vulcans ambassador to Earth for half a century until a few days ago, was now performing a medical procedure as if he'd done nothing else all his life.

"Very good," he heard Soval mutter, giving him hope that T'Pol's condition would improve soon.

"So what's the verdict, Soval?"

"Recovery exceeds expected parameters," Soval reported. "The muscle relaxation agent shall wear off in approximately 24 hours and does not need to be refreshed. It is however required for T'Pol to rest sufficiently. I charge you, Charles, to see to that."

"As you wish, Tela'at," Trip answered theatrically and had to stop a laugh at T'Pol's scandalized face expression.

"Your accent is improving," Soval answered with an elevated eyebrow and weren't it for the scandal of doing so, Trip was convinced, Soval would have allowed himself a chuckle or two. The clan chief seemed to have a lot of Vulcan's equivalent of fun at trading barbs with a human. Now if someone had told him that 4 years ago...

"We shall repeat the check in the evening and in the morning," Soval continued turning to T'Pol, completely unconcerned that she was half-naked. "Will you need assistance with meditation?"

"I shall try to instruct Trip to help me. If that is not successful in a reasonable amount of time, I shall have you informed."

"Very well," Soval answered and stowed the medical equipment below the bed to spare himself the hassle of carrying it back and forth for each check-up. "I shall leave now."

"Thanks, Soval," Trip answered and watched the elder leave.

"What are you doing?" T'Pol asked, when Trip picked up the top of her underwear.

"What does it look like, darlin'?"

"You heard what Soval said. He will have to repeat the procedure at least twice and it is not logical to go through the undignified procedure of removing the clothing over my immobilized extremities, when we can just leave it removed."

"Undignified? Well how dignified will it be if someone walks in here with you letting 'em hang out? Not that I would mind the view, but I'm pretty sure that Malcolm or Hoshi will drop by. They'll worry since I made quite the dramatic exit from the mess hall."

T'Pol's exasperation grew. "I am sure Malcolm has seen a female body before. If you are so uncomfortable with it, all you need to do is pull up the blanket before they come in."

T'Pol felt the urge to express her amusement again about Trip's disbelieving look. "Did you not plan to invite Malcolm and Hoshi to your home ... to the beach at some time?" she asked with a hint of teasing.

"Well, yes... ," Trip stuttered. "But that's what swimsuits are for. I can't believe it. You were concerned about my folks, but you would have no problem with going skinny-dipping with Malcolm and Hoshi?"

T'Pol grew silent. She was unsure, how to explain, without offending him. "Trip, I do not wish to offend you, but..."

"But what?"

"I believe, I feel significantly closer to Malcolm and Hoshi than to your parents."

"Well, that's not really surprising, is it?" he pondered and T'Pol almost sighed in relief that he had not taken offense. "You've met my folks once, while you've been around Malcolm and Hoshi for years. That's just the way you Vulcans foster relationships, I guess. Should have known though. You talk with Hoshi and Malcolm about private things as if you're discussing the weather, while you had to meditate for two days after you told my parents a few intimate details."