He ached all over.
His head pounded furiously, beating time with his pulse and hurting more than the worse tequila hangover he'd ever experienced. The scalp wound that he'd gotten following the T'Muna-Doth's extraordinarily rough landing had finally dried, but Trip still hadn't had time to wipe it clean, not with the danger they were currently in and the absolute lack of options on-hand. Not for the first time, he was thankful for T'Pol's pain management training – it required a bit of concentration, but he was able to push aside the nearly crippling agony of cracked ribs and bruises that decorated his body like a second skin; the pain was locked away in a tiny little box at the back of his mind so he could continue to function while the situation remained severe. Eventually, of course, h
