Artisticmom2 wrote:I woke up thinking about this story I started years ago, but could never get off the ground. I wrote a few great scenes and then couldn't take it any farther. Set right after the end of season 3. This is Archer.
The room lit up with a bright flash of lightening. It glinted off the shot glass he held in his hand. The thunder rolled in right behind the bright flash as he downed yet another shot of vodka. Normally he wasn’t the kind to drown his emotions in the bottom of a bottle but he had nowhere to be tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. Starfleet had insured that he and his crew would have a long rest and complete privacy. So here he sat, in a dark cabin, drinking to drown himself for the third night in a row.
Another flash of lightning brought another sin to the surface. He had stolen engine parts and left an alien crew stranded years from their home. At the time he had felt remorse, a very little remorse, and had gone on his merry way. He wondered where they were now and if they could ever forgive him. If their families would ever forgive him for the time he took away from them all. He downed the shot and set the glass down with a thunk. He head tipped back and he groaned.
The memories weren’t stopping.
He swam in them, almost drowning, visions of him torturing, threatening, hurting others.
He poured himself yet another shot and held the glass up to the pale watery light shining in the window, contemplating so many things. Could he ever atone for how he had treated his crew or the countless others they had encountered while out there? Which was worse, mistreating strangers or his closest friends and loved ones? He heard Porthos stir on his bed in the corner. Perhaps that was where he needed to be, in bed, asleep. Perhaps he had drunk enough to sleep without the dreams and nightmares coming to him. Perhaps tonight he could finally rest. Tossing back the shot in his hand he rose unsteadily and went into the bedroom. The sky lit up with another flash of lightening. Glancing out the bedroom window he thought he saw a figure out in the rain, but knew he had to be mistaken. No one would be out in that mess. Dismissing what he thought he saw, he fell on the bed and lapsed into an uneasy sleep.
Verse Ranger wrote:Since we're sharing. This is a little scene I wrote up as the kick off to a much larger project, which I am beginning to think may never come to fruition (as I'm struggling with finishing a simple chapter, let along anything larger at the moment). I actually have quite a few scenes from this project done, but there are huge gaps that need to be filled in, and much more to write on the latter part. I think it's pretty obvious what episode this refers to.
Doctor’s Note
Phlox sat wearily at his desk, trying to finish up the last of his administrative responsibilities before the stimulants wore off. “Computer, continue Chief Medical Officer’s log, current medical incident report update.” The computer chirped, indicating it had started recording as ordered. “As noted in my previous entry, I completed administering the pheromone neutralizing agent to the affected crew. Captain Archer, not surprisingly, insisted on ensuring the entire crew had been treated before he would let me administer the medication to him. This is yet another testament to his dedication to the welfare of the entire crew, and his faith in the command abilities of Commander T’Pol, who was unaffected by the Orion females’ pheromones due to her Vulcan physiology.”
Phlox hesitated a moment before continuing, but finally began speaking again “There is one odd medical anomaly to this incident that I have not been able to identify the cause for. One of the human crewmembers was not affected by the pheromones. Commander Tucker, the acting Chief of Engineering, a 33 year old male in good health… (despite his tendency to over work, under nourish, and accidentally injure himself Phlox thought to himself, but refrained from speaking), exhibited no symptoms what so ever. Commander Tucker is here on temporary transfer from the Columbia, so it is possible that some environmental factor on that ship served as a form of prophylactic inoculant, but I find that an implausible answers, as the two ships are essentially identical.”
Phlox paused again briefly, hesitating to make a permanent record of the facts he was about to relate, but professionalism forced him to continue, though he would try to cut off future investigation if at all possible. “The only other possible explanation seems just as unlikely. When previously assigned to Enterprise, Commander Tucker was receiving intermittent therapeutic Vulcan neuropressure from Commander T’Pol for purposes that are detailed in his medical file. But those sessions ceased some time ago, and given the nature of the procedure, I see no indication that simply receiving such treatment would impart any lasting physiological changes that would render Commander Tucker immune. As he is scheduled to return to Columbia in the next 24 hours, this may remain an unsolved medical mystery, though I do plan to bring up the issue with Commander T’Pol once I have an opportunity to see if she can help clarify the issue in any way.”
Phlox felt a sudden wave of sadness come over him. “Computer, pause recording.” As the computer chirped its obedience, Phlox let a sad little smile come across his face. Perhaps it was just the effect of the stimulants he’d been using to keep himself awake wearing off he thought. But deep down he knew better. Such a pity, that two such bright and compatible young people should have let their superficial differences get between them. The doctor took a deep breath, but his sadness only deepened. Yes, it must be the exhaustion catching up with me, best to finish up and prepare for a good rest. “Computer, resume recording… I anticipate the majority of the crew will be mostly recovered within 12 to 24 hours, with only a few lingering symptoms. Some of the more virile or fertile members of the crew may require more time, as the Orion pheromones seem to target them the specifically. I have remained awake with the assistance of a rather strong dose of stimulants for the six hours since I administered the final treatment to ensure there are no severe allergic reactions. Now, rather than spend the time and effort to develop a pheromone neutralizing agent for Denobulan physiology, I shall simply take a short, 2 day hibernation, which should give my body time to recover from the symptoms. Computer end incident log entry.”
The Denobulan doctor would not have been nearly so sad if he had been aware of the conversation between the two bright and compatible young people which had transpired just a few meters down the corridor from his sickbay six hours earlier.
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