The Expanse - J.M. Dillard [69]
Inside Shuttlepod One, Archer watched as Enterprise loomed large on the screen; a slight shudder passed through the pod as the starship’s docking arms firmly latched onto the pod.
Shuttlepod Two was visible directly alongside as it, too, was being pulled smoothly into the launch bay.
They’d made it. Archer could scarcely believe it now—though he’d doggedly forced himself to cling to hope during the experience, to increase his chances of survival. If this kind of experience was standard operating procedure for the Expanse, then they were damned lucky to have the MACOs on board.
Actually, Archer added wryly to himself, in this case, we were just damned lucky, period. If the MACOs had arrived only a few seconds later, he and Trip—
He deliberately stopped the train of thought. At least they were back on Enterprise, with a good chance of outrunning the warships the weasel had sent to capture them. That alone was reason to be cheerful.
But he was less optimistic about Kessick. The Xindi had remained unconscious through the ride back to the starship; once they’d passed through the turbulent planetary atmosphere, the MACOs had administered first aid to their wounded, while Hayes himself had examined Kessick. The Major had shaken his head. “A lot of internal damage. Doesn’t look good.”
“Doctor Phlox is capable of some pretty amazing things,” Archer had countered. He was sitting next to Trip, who remained strapped in his seat, eyes closed, hands resting on knees. Archer worried how his friend would react if the Xindi died—but at the moment, Trip remained stoic, motionless, apparently unconcerned.
But Archer hadn’t been prepared at that moment to accept that he and Trip had endured everything on that planet, endangered the ship and crew, and caused two MACOs to be wounded, all for nothing. He’d moved to Kessick’s still form and leaned over him.
“Wake up. Talk to me. I need those coordinates ...”
When no response came, he’d put his hands on the Xindi’s shoulders and shaken him gently. “Kessick. The coordinates ...”
Hayes had stopped him with a look that was firm, but not unkind. “He’s severely wounded and unconscious, sir. He’s going to need your doctor’s help to be able to speak.”
Archer had nodded and turned away, bitter; only then did he catch sight of Trip’s face. The engineer’s eyes had flickered open, briefly, to reveal a gaze that was haunted.
Behind them, the bay doors slid shut, and Enterprise leapt into warp.
Captain’s Starlog, supplemental. The three alien warships followed Enterprise for nearly an hour, but couldn’t keep up with us. I guess they’ll have to look elsewhere for new additions to their “labor force.”
As the door to his ready room chimed, Archer stopped his recording and folded his hands on his desk. “Come in.” There was something very close to a lilt in his voice; he’d had that shower and a good night’s sleep next to a warm dog and was feeling cheerful, despite the circumstances.
Phlox entered. The Captain knew at once from the look on the doctor’s face what he was going to say; he’d warned Archer of the likelihood yesterday evening, when Kessick had arrived in sickbay. “I’m terribly sorry, Captain, but there was nothing I could do.” Phlox’s tone and expression were somber, slightly haggard; Archer knew the doctor’s desire to save the Xindi sprang entirely from his sense of ethics and compassion, and had little to do with Kessick’s usefulness. Phlox would have worked just as hard to save any other patient.
Although Archer had spent a great deal of time trying to prepare himself for this eventuality, it still stung. They had been so close to discovering the location of Kessick’s world, had risked so much ... and now they were back to square one. He rubbed a weary hand across his eyes, feeling the morning’s optimism evaporate, replaced by a wave of futility.
This wasn’t one piece of news he was eager to share with Trip Tucker.
Phlox saw his disappointment,