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"Advance Directive" by A. Rhea King
Rating: PG CHAPTER 3 Over the top of his glasses Archer watched Trip expertly weave around people, guiding his skateboard with the precision of a figure skater toward him. Trip stopped next to Archer, flipping the skateboard up on end with one foot. He looked down the sidewalk and then checked his watch. “Why do you keep doing that?” Archer demanded. “Doin’ what?” “Looking down the sidewalk and then your watch. You’ve been doing that since we got here.” “Just... Lookin’. Your turn.” Trip handed him the skateboard. Archer stepped back. “With a bruised pride I fully admit I cannot skateboard and supper is on me. Happy?” “No. You have to prove it. Try again.” Trip look down the sidewalk and then his watch. Archer smiled. “You’re up to something.” “You’ve proven me wrong before; I dare you to prove it now.” “Most people would be happy to have their senior officer tell them once that they have a skill the senior officer can’t master, let alone four times. And I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m going to eat.” Archer started back to his car. Behind him Trip looked down the sidewalk again and suddenly grinned. “NO!” Trip cried. He grabbed Archer’s arm and pulled him back onto the sidewalk. Trip pushed the skateboard into Archer’s chest. “Try once more. If you fall again, I’ll let it go,” Trip said. “Promise?” “Scout’s honor.” “If you embarrass me, Trip, you’re scrubbing floors with pipe cleaners.” “I won’t. Hurry up and try again. I’m starving.” Archer arranged the skateboard on the sidewalk and stepped on. He hadn’t even gotten his balance when Trip grabbed his arm. He wheeled Archer around and shoved. Unprepared for the motion, Archer struggled to keep his balance. “WATCH OUT!” he heard a woman scream. Archer looked up. He was headed straight for two women. Archer tried to maneuver around them but lost his balance and fell face first into the sand. Archer lifted his head. ‘I’m going to kill him. He is going to clean the floor with his tongue!’ “Are you okay?” someone asked. Archer turned his head. His sunglasses were skewed, but looking over the top he found a pair of striking, bikini-clad, twins crouched next to him. And pieces suddenly fell into place. “Are you okay, Commander?” Trip asked. Archer turned his head. Trip was kneeling on his other side. “He has an injury from a plasma conduit explosion,” Trip lied to the twins. “Sometimes it acts up when he’s skateboarding. Usually he’s amazing!” Archer looked away, smiling. ‘He is shameless!’ “I can’t concentrate on surfing when I break up with a boyfriend,” one of the twins said. “I understand, Commander... I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” Archer looked at the women. Trip piped up. “It’s Lieutenant-Commander Jonathan Archer. Starfleet.” Archer slowly got up, nursing the arm that he’d caught himself with in the fall. “Starfleet? Wow. Never dated anyone from Starfleet before,” she giggled. Archer opened his mouth to reply. Trip interrupted. “We were actually talking about grabbing some supper and a drink. Care to join us? Our treat.” Archer looked at him. Trip shot him a grin. “You’re not on duty, then?” one of the twins asked. Archer answered before Trip did. “We’re on leave.” The women smiled. One introduced them both. “I’m Laura. This is my sister Linda. We’d love to have supper with you.” The four shook hands. “We can take--” Archer started. “The trolley,” Trip interrupted, adding, “His Corvette is in the repair shop. You know how temperamental converted combustion engines can be.” “Yeah,” one of the twins answered. “My uncle has one. It’s always giving him fits.” “Would you ladies mind giving us a moment?” Archer asked. Trip shot him a worried look. “Sure. We’ll be at the trolley stop.” The two walked away. “We’ll be right there,” Trip added. Archer stepped in front of Trip with a cool smile. “So I’m settling in for a quiet evening and you show up. You manage to deceive me into accepting a bet that I can skateboard better than you, drag me down here, and we just happen to run into two very beautiful twins.” Archer crossed his arms. “So tell me, Trip, how long have those two been walking down this sidewalk at this exact time of day?” “Two months, at least. Archer shook his head. “But there’s two! I can’t date two women!” “I get Laura, Don Juan.” Archer headed toward the trolley stop. Trip grabbed the skateboard and followed, repeating. “Thank you, Jon. Thank you, Jon, Thank you, Jon.” # “T’Pol.” Archer looked up. Trip’s eyes were open but they appeared to be focused on something across the room. Archer leaned forward, laying his hand on Trip’s arm. Trip turned his head, trying to focus his eyes on Archer. “You look like hell, Jon,” Trip joked. Archer smiled. “Been a long two days, Trip.” Trip closed his eyes. “My head hurts. “I could step on your foot. Then your head won’t hurt.” A half-hearted grin drifted across Trip’s lips. “I’ll see if Phlox has figured anything out when he surfaces again. He and Nadez have been in a meeting since--” “Fuck!” Trip gripped the armrests and began crying and moaning. The medical technician appeared beside the chair and pressed a hypospray against Trip’s neck. Trip remained tense for several more minutes before slowly relaxing. He licked his lips and swallowed. “Would you like some ice?” the technician asked. Trip nodded. The technician retrieved a glass of crushed ice that he handed to Archer. “Give him a little at a time,” the technician instructed Archer before going back to his work. Archer picked out a piece and put it in Trip’s mouth. “I won’t let this go on much longer. Phlox is taking it out if it’s any threat to your life.” “He can’t.” “He can and he will.” “No, Cap’n, he can’t.” The door opened, distracting Archer from the argument. Doctor Phlox and Nadez entered, Phlox approaching Archer. “Can you excuse us, Captain?” Phlox asked. He sounded and looked worried. Archer sat the cup down as he stood and squeezed Trip’s shoulder. “I’ll be back,” Archer told him. Trip barely nodded his head. Archer walked toward the door. Archer missed a step when he heard Phlox quietly say, “Trip, it’s time to discuss your advance directive. Archer turned. Phlox had sat down next to Trip. “I need T’Pol,” Trip whispered. “She’s on her way.” Archer took a step back toward Trip. As if from the air, Nadez appeared before Archer. She took one step at a time toward Archer, forcing him to retreat. “We need to talk to Commander Tucker, Captain Archer,” Nadez said. “But I--” “You need to leave.” “No, I’m his--” “I’m sorry, Captain Archer. You have to leave.” Nadez stepped back and the door of the dome closed in Archer’s face. He stood for a few minutes, debating going back in. In the end he turned and left the room, passing T’Pol. She didn’t even glance at Archer as they passed. It was then that he knew something had changed that no one had told him about. # Archer followed Malcolm and Nadez into a small conference room. A table took up most of the room and tall windows looked out onto the hospital grounds. T’Pol and Phlox sat at one end, both leaning on the table. Archer had never seen T’Pol look so tired or Phlox so distraught. Reed sat down next to T’Pol, the two looking at each other. From under her hands, she slid a PADD to Malcolm. He picked it up, reading it. Nadez and Archer sat across from the three. “What’s going on, Phlox?” “I can’t find an anti-inflammatory medication that is effective,” Phlox told him, “and the swelling is continuing. I’m concerned that it may become critical before this is over and possibly put him in a coma or kill him.” “Then you need to remove the fledgling.” “I can’t. Removing it now will kill it.” Malcolm looked at T’Pol, his eyes watering. Archer noticed, but was more focused on Phlox at the moment. “Phlox, remove that damn thing!” Archer loudly ordered. Angrily Phlox snapped back, “We are not in the midst of tracking down the Xindi, Captain! You can’t sacrifice the fledgling’s life for his!” “I’m his primary health care surrogate and I’m making the decision to have that fledgling removed!” Malcolm sprung to his feet, the action itself silencing the room. “You were his primary health care surrogate. Now I am and the fledgling stays.” With his fingertips, Malcolm slid the PADD to Archer. Archer picked up the PADD and began reading. It was hard to swallow by the time he was half way through, and hard to breath by the end. He slowly sat it down, staring blankly at the table. “When did he change his will?” Archer quietly asked. “Five days ago,” Phlox answered, “before we left.” “Isn’t there some way to overturn it if it was submitted that soon?” Archer looked at Phlox. “As his primary health care surrogate,” Malcolm hissed, “I refuse to go against his living will, and because we aren’t in the midst of a war, sir, you have no authority to override this decision.” Archer turned an angry glare on him, opening his mouth to retort. “Do you know why he changed his will?” Malcolm asked. “Do you know why he took that power out of your hands? Do you know what prompted him to make sure that no sentient being would ever die to save his life again?” Archer closed his mouth. He knew exactly what Malcolm was talking about. “Sim.” Malcolm’s rage dissipated suddenly. Quietly he said, “He’s never been all right with Sim dying in his place. Why haven’t you ever noticed?” “I had an entire planet to think about! I did what had to be done and I don’t regret it!” “I suppose it’s good tat you don’t regret it, sir, but Trip does and that’s why he changed his will. If he dies, it’s because you made a decision you don’t regret.” Malcolm tried to say more, but he suddenly choked up. He hurried out of the room. Archer looked at the PADD in his hand. One phrase stuck out at him like a long, pointing, accusing finger: The exemption being any treatment that could, or would, cause harm or death to another human being and/or a sentient alien species, race or civilization, including unborn species and fetuses. His guilt ripped into him with cold, dull claws. In his need to make the immoral decision right in his mind, Archer had never stopped to wonder how Trip had felt about it. |
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