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"Advance Directive" by A. Rhea King
Rating: PG CHAPTER 4 Malcolm walked up to the chair, watching Trip. He had no color in his face and sweat ran in steady beads. He was unconscious, a blessing in Malcolm’s opinion. Malcolm sat down in the chair next to Trip. “Trip?” Malcolm said. Trip didn’t respond. Malcolm leaned closer, laying a hand on Trip’s arm. He looked down when the door opened, but it was only two technicians returning to check monitors. Malcolm looked back at Trip’s face. “If you can hear me... I’m a bit angry with you!” Malcolm dropped his hands to his lap, continuing. “You left me carrying the can and it’s left everything falling to bits--” Malcolm looked back up, smiling. “Listen to me. I’m reverting to the old language because of all this. You always laugh when I do that, don’t you? Well...” Malcolm laid his hand on Trip’s arm again. “Really, I didn’t want to carry this can, Trip. And now I’ve gone off and broke my promise to you. I told Captain Archer everything you asked me not to about how Sim’s death made you feel. I’m sorry.” Malcolm closed his eyes, putting his face in his hands to hide his tears. Behind them he snapped, “Why do you have to be so dotty?” He waited until the tears had passed to look back up at Trip. “All this made me get into an argy-bargy with Captain Archer, you know. But...” Malcolm patted Trip’s arm. “But I’ll carry on with this undertaking, Trip. Row with the captain or no row. Understand?” Trip didn’t move. Malcolm smiled, looking away from him, and right into Archer’s stare. He stood between the door and Malcolm and wore the strangest expression Malcolm had ever seen on his face. For several minutes the men stared at each other. Without a word Archer turned and left. Malcolm looked back at Trip, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. It wasn’t the first time he’d put everything on the line for his best friend... # Shuttle Pod One drifted lifelessly through space. Behind her, the impulse engine was now in pieces, drifting slowly away. If someone had passed within hearing range, they would have heard indistinguishable clinks, clanks, pings, and argumentative groans from her cold metal. Had they passed twenty minutes earlier, they would have heard her two occupants in a yelling match. But now Trip and Malcolm were silent as they shivered and slowly froze to death. With a voice rattled from his violent shaking, Trip asked quietly, “Why didn’t you just stun me?” “Don’t start that again!” Malcolm snapped in a matching rattled voice. “I can’t feel anything and I can hardly stay awake. You should have stunned us both so we couldn’t feel it coming.” “Optimism, Commander. Remember?” Trip wasn’t feeling very optimistic right now. He changed the subject. “Have you always been this big mouthed and stubborn?” “I was relatively reserved and obedient until I was fifteen.” A strong shiver ran down Trip’s spine. He pulled his blanket tighter around him. It didn’t help. “What happened when you were fifteen?” “My father sent me off to military school to prepare me for the Royal Navy. When all other attempts to persuade him I had no intention of ever joining the Royal Navy had failed, I resorted to extreme measures. After that, I was rather outspoken.” “Extreme how?” Malcolm looked down at the phase pistol. He picked it up, fiddling with the power control on it. “I snuck off one afternoon, bought a dirt bike, and rode it onto the obstacle course. I was permanently expelled from school and no other school would take me.” Trip thought for a moment. He tried hard to envision Malcolm on a dirt bike on military-type obstacle course. A smile began to grow. He saw young Malcolm whooping and hollering in the afternoon sun as he tore around the course. A soft chuckle came when he saw the instructors, all proper military personnel, chasing after him. Trip started laughing when he saw Malcolm’s father chasing with them, red in the face, furious that his only son would do something like this. “What is it?” Malcolm asked. “Your dad must have been furious!” Malcolm nodded, smiling. “Livid. Tried to sell off my bike, but I got it away and took up motocross racing.” “Really?” Trip was shocked. “You raced dirt bikes?” “Yes.” “Were you any good?” “Yes.” “How good?” “World champion three years running.” Trip was stunned. He looked across the shuttle pod, contemplating this new information. “You were a world champ dirt bike racer?” “Yes.” “Why’d you stop?” “I joined Starfleet when I was nineteen and had obligations.” Trip would have shrugged, but he was too cold to move. “That’s a stupid reason. Makes you sound all grown up.” Malcolm didn’t reply. Trip heard the phase pistol whine, but didn’t look. Malcolm was keeping his mind busy by tinkering, which was better than thinking about the inevitable. Trip wagged his head side to side. “Somehow, I can see you as a dirt bike champ.” Trip closed his eyes as a shiver coursed through him. “He can’t skateboard to save his life,” Trip told Malcolm. “Who is that?” “You said you thought Captain Archer could do anything. He can’t skateboard. It’s the one thing I can do better than him.” Malcolm chuckled a little. “That might be useful blackmail one day. Commander, I don’t believe that our end will be very comfortable, so forgive me.” “For what?” Trip looked at him, and found the phase pistol aimed at him. “MAL--” Malcolm stunned him before he finished. Trip slumped over. Malcolm sat the pistol down and pulled his blanket off. He tucked it around Trip and then picked the pistol up again. He aimed at his chest, drew a breath and fired. |
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