The BLTS Archive - Missing Scene: Desert Crossing
by Kalita Kasar (kalitafic@hotmail.com)

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Archive: Entslash. WWOMB Others by permission.

Feedback: yes.

Spoilers: "Desert Crossing"

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story, they were born
in other creative minds, but they keep intruding into mine, so what's
a girl to do? I don't make any money from this; it is just a labour of
love, for me and them.

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"Commander Tucker will make a full recovery, Captain." Doctor Phlox
turned to look at Jonathan archer. His face was grim, lacking the
usual good-natured expression. "But that is a case of more good luck
than good management I should say." The Denobulan frowned and Jonathan
lowered his gaze.

He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, not knowing what to say.
"I guess I lost it down there, Doctor," he said quietly. "I was so
caught up with just getting us out of there that I wasn't thinking
straight."

"Well, no permanent harm is done." Phlox turned back to look at his
patient who slept quietly on one of the biobeds. "I was thinking it
might be a good idea if I were to give the crew, including yourself, a
basic grounding in field medicine." The Doctor smiled for the first
time. "Can't do any harm can it?"

Jonathan nodded. "That would probably be a good idea." He looked at
the Chief Engineer for a moment, and then met the doctor's eyes. "Do
you mind if I sit with him a while?"

"Of course." Phlox waved the captain to a seat and made to withdraw
but Jon stopped him. "Please stay, Doctor...I...I'd like to talk about
this."

Easing himself down on the chair, Jonathan reached out and touched
Charles Tucker's hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered. The captain couldn't
believe what an idiot he'd been.

Phlox noticed the almost intimate gesture and smiled slightly.
"Perhaps talking about it will help," he said quietly, encouraging the
captain with a small nod when the man met his eyes.

"Trip didn't want to go on the away mission." Thinking back to their
survival training in Australia Jon shook his head. I should have known
better than to push him, he thought "He tried to remind me that he
doesn't cope well in extremes of weather."


"A desert, sir? The heat, the dry air; you know how it sucks the life
outta me."

"What about the two weeks we spent in Australia? We had a great time."

"Survival trainin' in the outback, drinkin' recycled sweat and eatin'
snake meat; that's your idea of a great time?"


"He tried to talk me out of it, but I had to push him until he agreed
to go down there."

"It wasn't so bad while we were in Zobrals encampment. The food was
good, and Trip put away enough of it to feed two men. Of course, he
excelled himself at the game of Geskana. Trip is a competitive man by
nature; he wouldn't have got to the position he holds now if he
weren't. That's one of the qualities I have always admired in him;
that and the fact that he knows his limits."

Jon paused a moment at that thought and raised his eyes to the
sleeping man's face. "He knows his limits. . . and by pushing him
beyond them on that desert planet I almost got him killed."

"Hell... I overheard one of the crew mention that I should have just
taken Trip down there, marched him into the desert and shot him - it
would have 'been more merciful and saved time,' she said. That has a
painful edge of truth to it."

"Well, it is easy to be critical from the outside of a situation,"
Phlox murmured.

"No. In a sense she is right," Jon replied. "When the bombardment
started we decided it wasn't safe to stay where we were. Trip said
he'd rather take his chances in the desert than to stay there. It was
night; so we grabbed some supplies from the shuttlepod and headed for
the desert."

"We walked through the night; as best I could tell we were heading in
the right direction for an abandoned encampment I saw on the way in."
Jon sighed. "We should've stopped once the sun came up. I know the
basics of survival. I know better than to walk in the heat of the day
in a desert. Our water ran out. I didn't think to ration it. . . we
expected Enterprise to find us and pick us up."

"You had every reason to expect that; the ship was in orbit after all.
You were not to know that we would encounter the difficulties we did
in evacuating you from the planet."

"It's not enough, Phlox. This sort of thing is supposed to be second
nature: 'Always plan for any eventuality.' That's what Commander
Johansson told us. He drummed it into our heads every day for two
weeks: 'Never assume anything.' I made just about every mistake I
could make, Doctor."

"There were some good elements," Phlox said. "You tried to rehydrate
him; kept him alert. . . "

"Yeah," Jon got to his feet, pacing a little. "And let him run a fever
of 105 without doing anything to try and bring it down!"

"Realistically, what could you have done?" Phlox moved around the
sickbay attending to experiments as he listened to Archer.

"I could have used some of that water we found to sponge him down. OK
so it was tainted water, not much good for drinking, but it would have
been all right to use externally. Why didn't I think to even soak his
shirt in it and cool him that way?"

Phlox stopped what he was doing and turned to look at the captain.
"Captain Archer, if I may be so bold; perhaps it was because where
Commander Tucker is involved, you demonstrate a dangerous lack of
emotional detachment."

Archer met the doctor's eyes sharply. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh it's nothing to be ashamed of," Phlox said jovially. "I am sure I
would be the same where one of my wives were concerned. However, it is
something to be . . .  aware of."

Jon let out a breath and resumed his seat by Trip's side. He knew
Phlox was right; where Trip was concerned he did lack detachment.
"Yeah," he said simply.

The truth of it was that he panicked. When Trip passed out virtually
at his feet, Jon's mind when into overdrive. All he could think of was
to get the younger man to shelter: Get the victim into shade or a cool
room as soon as possible. Right - that was a part of the procedure.
Jon frowned. Beyond that though, his mind had refused to function
coherently. He pushed water on the younger man:


"Go ahead." He held the water canteen to Trip's mouth.

"No sir, I won't take another man's water." Trip shook his head
weakly.

"You drink now; that's an order."

"No. We gotta keep moving. . . " The commander struggled to get to his
feet.

"You drink it...or I'll knock you on your ass and pour it down your
throat!"

Trip stopped resisting and drank the last few precious drops of water.

Then it began again; the agonizing shuffling through the endless
expanse of sand. Trip could barely stand, and Jonathan supported his
weight across his shoulders. The heat radiating from the younger man's
body was intense. Fever raged. Trip stumbled along, eyes closed, head
down; his breath was harsh, rapid and uneven.

Jon urged him onward, half dragging the blond man through the
relentless heat and sun.

After a moment, the captain looked up and met Phlox' eyes. "Are my
feelings for him really that obvious?"

"Perhaps not to anyone else." Phlox smiled as he turned from studying
a specimen. "I have made observing the reactions of various species my
focus, Captain. I see things others might easily miss."

Jonathan nodded. He could accept that, but he was left wondering if
Trip had ever guessed what was behind his motives sometimes. He turned
his green eyes to the younger man; watching as his chest rose and fell
lightly with his breathing.

At least now that breathing was regular and easy; Not the harsh,
rasping breaths that had punctuated their conversation back there in
that abandoned hut.

"Commander!" Jon nudged Trip's arm, jolting him awake.

"Hi, Cap'n. . . "

"The warp reactor; break it down for me."

"What?"

"What are the eight major components?"

"You gotta be kidding me. . . " Trip let his head fall weakly back
against the pillar he leaned against; his eyes slid shut and he began
to drift once more.

"Name them; that's an order!"

Jonathan sighed. He had known that Trip's condition was worsening, but
the engineer's nonsensical response to his command only proved it. The
captain remembered the cold fingers of fear that clutched his heart at
that moment. He had done everything he could think of to get Trip to
focus. Playing games, asking him what he would like to eat; anything
to keep his mind from slipping away into unconsciousness.

So the day that Jon had planned to be a pleasant getaway for himself
and Trip had turned into a nightmare. Jon bitterly recalled Trip's
words to him as they stumbled into the meagre shade of the dilapidated
shelter.

"Now this. . . is my idea. . . of a great time. . . "


Jon grunted and stood up. "I've taken up enough of your time, Doctor,"
he said as he moved towards the door. "Let me know if there's any
change."

"Certainly," Phlox replied blandly, turning back to his experiments
after a quick glance at his patient.

Jon stepped out of the sickbay and made his away along the corridor to
a lift. He sighed as he stepped inside and sent the lift to the
bridge. Trip was at least alive; even if he, Jon, couldn't truly be
thanked for that mercy.

Once his friend awoke there would be time to talk this all through and
work his head out, but, Jon shook his head slightly, he had a feeling
that Trip would as usual be all too willing to forgive and let it
pass. That was his way; he rarely held grudges, and when he did he was
anxious to clear the air as soon as possible.

Captain Archer gave a small snort and another shake of his head as he
stepped onto the bridge of his ship and moved to his chair. He'd never
met anyone quite like Charles 'Trip' Tucker III, and he had every
intention of making sure the young man was an element in his life for
a long time to come. He smiled at Travis as the navigator turned to
look at him, awaiting orders.

"Lay in a course for Risa, Ensign,"

"Aye, sir!" Travis turned to his controls with a grin.

"Let's go."

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The End