Disclaimer: Not ours. We'll return them intact when we're done playing. Honest.
Authors' Note: Not so much a pass-the-parcel writing game as pass-the-laptop. Or an Exploded Pen-stealing-the-laptop game (which is always fun, at least according to her). We're planning on doing a few of these while the Pen's visiting with TLI, so hope you enjoy this first effort!
o o o o o
Ducking down behind the lime green mezzanine, Malcolm checked his phase pistol for damage or impairment before darting back up to take another shot.
Judging by the points of origins on the shots he'd taken so far, there were three Meni soldiers at the other end of the amphitheatre, although he couldn't tell how many of them he'd hit. Behind him, down behind the safety of the balcony, Trip was cradling his left arm, the blue material of his arm turning an unsettling shade of dark red from the shoulder down.
Malcolm ducked down again as a projectile skimmed past him, barely missing his head. He glanced across at Trip. "Still with me?"
"Yeah, I think so," Trip replied hoarsely. He pulled his legs up closer into his body. "How long d'you think 'til the cap'n finds us?"
"Depends on how much trouble he's having." Malcolm rose up and took the opportunity to fire off another three shots.
Trip grimaced. "Shuttlepod's faster than anythin' these people have got in atmosphere," he said. "Weren't that far from it when they started firin'."
Malcolm fired off another shot. "Then it shouldn't be too long." He paused cautiously, phase pistol held ready.
"Did you get them all?"
"I don't know." Malcolm's eyes narrowed. All seemed quiet.
Then a shot rang out.
"Apparently not." Malcolm checked his pistol again, then reached over and pulled Trip's out of his holster. "Stay down, don't move and don't make a sound."
Trip nodded, and Malcolm turned to face the mezzanine. He paused for a moment, apparently listening for the remaining Meni before standing up and firing several simultaneous shots in various directions.
A quick movement across the amphitheatre caught Malcolm's attention and he whipped round to fire at the Meni soldier. It was only as he fired that the thought occured - "Distraction," he muttered, swinging round. But he hadn't been fast enough and the bullet clipped his side. Grunting Malcolm fired a return shot and dropped down beside Trip. "Captain'd better get here soon!"
"D'he get you bad?" Trip asked, eyeing Malcolm's hip.
Malcolm shook his head. "Passing shot. Scrape more than anything. He's down though." He nodded his head in the direction of the second soldier, then held a hand up. "You hear that?"
Trip frowned. "Hear what?"
"Absolutely nothing," Malcolm said grimly. "I got them all."
"Are you sure?" Trip asked anxiously. "Could they be waiting for you to stick your head out again?"
Malcolm twisted around to face him. "I got them," he said, his voice monotone. "Can you move? If we get to the top of the amphitheatre it'd be easier for the shuttlepod to get us." He checked Trip's pistol. "It would also be more defensible than our current position if more Meni soldiers find their way in here."
"An' we don't want that." Letting his injured arm hang limply against his side, Trip used his good hand to grip the top of the mezzanine and pull himself up to his feet, standing unsteadily. "I can walk," he said a moment later. When Malcolm looked uncertain, Trip let go of the mezzanine and took a step closer to him. "I can walk," he repeated firmly.
Malcolm still didn't look entirely convinced but he said nothing, instead motioning for Trip to follow him as he moved swiftly along beside the mezzanine towards the stairs. All the while he kept one pistol at hand; the other had gone into his thigh holster, well within easy reach if need be.
As Malcolm had said, the amphitheatre was empty of Meni soldiers - for the moment at least. But if more soldiers spilled into the amphitheatre the two officers would be easy to track from the faint blood trail they were leaving behind. The building's structure also meant that the closer to the partly open top of the building Trip and Malcolm got, they could still be tracked from the main and side entrances, which made any progress to the top hazardous at best.
Trip staggered behind Malcolm, his every step seeming to echo loudly round the building, whereas Malcolm seemed to be moving almost soundlessly even though he was favouring the leg that had been 'grazed'. The limp was barely noticeable though, and maybe Trip was only seeing it because watching Malcolm gave him a constant guide of where to walk; Malcolm had slowed his pace right down to accommodate Trip, which allowed the both of them to get a better sense of the amphitheatre now that they weren't running for their lives.
The floor size was relatively small, maybe twice the size of the mess hall on Enterprise, but there were four levels including the ground floor, and staircases in seemingly random places, which would make it impossible to simply move straight up to the top of the building.
The floor itself was uneven in places as well, likely by design, which Trip only found out after he stumbled, only managing to stop himself from falling at the last second. He gripped the back of a nearby seat, trying to get his breath back while Malcolm waited for him, visibly concerned but still focused on their surroundings.
A noise caused him to freeze, holding his breath without realising it as Malcolm held up a warning hand and brought round the pistol.
"Sounds like more of our friends have arrived," Malcolm murmured, his voice barely audible. "Come on, we need to keep moving."
Trip exhaled slowly and pushed on after Malcolm. The nearest staircase up to the next level was at least ten metres away, and Trip vaguely recalled that the corridor leading from the amphitheatre's main entrance to the open area where they actually were had several twists and turns in it; it took some time to get through, but not a lot. He tried to quicken his pace as Malcolm started looking for potential cover between him and the entrance. He found in the form of a cluster of three luridly coloured chairs just next to the alcove where the staircase began.
Motioning for Trip to start climbing the staircase, Malcolm readied himself behind the chairs. Without a scanner - having dropped it somewhere between the open air plaza and running in here - he had no idea of how many Meni were about to come into the amphitheatre, but he refused to entertain the notion that he wouldn't be able to at least fend them off for long enough for Trip to make it to safety. His weapon was more advanced, and he held the higher ground. But it seemed like Trip was taking a long time to climb the stairs; either blood loss was slowing the man down, or Meni soldiers had been laying in wait for them - unlikely but not entirely impossible.
He heard something and swung his pistol round, his senses becoming hyper focused. The first Meni soldier was tracking his way into the amphitheatre. It didn't look as though he'd spotted Malcolm yet, and Malcolm wasn't willing to give up the location of his cover just yet. He allowed the soldier - the only one for the moment, probably a scout - to come closer to the middle of the room and take in the bodies of his fallen comrades.
Malcolm ducked back down behind the cover of the chair cluster, waiting for the soldier to come closer to his position - he would have to, in order to reach the unconscious man who had acted as a decoy before. Closer and closer the sound of footsteps came, and Malcolm crouched, ready. The Meni's legs were the first things to come into view, and Malcolm swiftly delivered a kick that brought the alien to his knees. A well placed blow to the back of the neck, and the Meni was down without making a sound.
The scout dealt with Malcolm paused, listening for the faint sound of Trip's footsteps on the stairs. He didn't hear anything - Trip must have reached the top. Malcolm moved away from the garish chairs and started his rapid ascent up the stairs.
He found Trip standing at the top, seemingly looking around for the steps to the next level. "You okay?" he mouthed. Trip nodded slightly, which Malcolm acknowledged before looking around as well. He spotted the alcove fifteen metres along the curved wall, and pointed it out to Trip, who moved back to press himself against the wall, allowing Malcolm full scope to move along and check for threats.
When he'd determined the path to the alcove was clear, Malcolm moved back behind Trip and waited for him to start walking. The bleeding from the shot to the arm appeared to have stopped, but Trip still looked faint, and he was still having trouble walking smoothly or in a straight line, but he was capable of moving under his own steam though, which was enough for the moment.
Trip gave Malcolm a brief nod and started moving, Malcolm brought up the rear, very aware that other Meni soldiers would come looking - in greater numbers - once they became aware their scout wasn't going to return. An even worse scenario involved the Meni scout coming round and bringing in a whole troop to find them. Assuming they would be able to cover the side entrances as well, the only other place to search would be up; where they were headed.
Noises from the ground floor had Malcolm reach out to Trip, placing a hand on his good shoulder to still him while he strained to listen. There were at least two sets of footsteps moving around down there - he couldn't tell if there were any more than that - and it was only a matter of time before they found the scout, saw the nearby staircase and came to the only logical conclusion.
Malcolm pointed Trip in the direction of the next staircase, now only a few metres away; he complied with the silent order and began climbing again, clearly unsteady still but not making a sound. Malcolm waited behind, pressing himself flat against the wall and listening for the quiet noise of Trip's footfalls on the stairs. It stopped after a few minutes, and Malcolm moved silently up the stairs to join him with the distant sound of Meni footsteps ringing in his ears.
Trip was waiting for him again, leaning against the wall. Malcolm froze just off the top step and held up a warning hand. The Meni footsteps had suddenly increased in speed - they'd found their scout.
And they were fast buggers when they wanted to be, as well. Malcolm barely had time to look down the staircase again when a soldier appeared at the bottom, his weapon raised and primed in almost as much time as it took Malcolm to fire his. The noise of the phase discharge must have alerted the other Meni, and Malcolm was in no mood to take chances.
He risked a glance round the level and caught sight of a table along with another pile of garish chairs. "Tip the table and get behind," he ordered and switched his attention back to the stairwell - it wouldn't afford much cover but there was nothing else on the level that would work better.
Just as Trip had got himself over to the table and ducked down behind it, Malcolm heard another soldier coming up the staircase behind him. He turned to fire, but it was too late. He felt something slam into his leg, and when he looked down - against all instinct telling him to return fire immediately - there was blood pooling down his uniform.
The soldier who had fired the shot looked inordinately pleased with himself - or he should have done, since Meni facial expressions were hard to read and really, wasn't that half the reason they were in this situation to begin with? Hearing rather than seeing the rest of the Meni's patrol come up the staircase as well, Malcolm let himself fall first to his knees and then to the ground, his phase pistol clattering to the floor beside him, and rolled over onto his side.
From the corner of his vision, Malcolm noted that there was no movement from behind the upended table. On the other side of him, there were now four Meni soldiers approaching him - all that remained of the second patrol - three currently unarmed but with hands resting on holstered weapons; the one who had shot him still had his gun raised, aimed squarely at Malcolm's head.
He had faced worse odds.
Malcolm waited until the armed soldier was standing right over him before sweeping his legs out, determinedly ignoring the pain, to deliver another kick that brought the soldier to the ground. In the same instant he grabbed the phase pistol still in its holster and rolled onto his back and delivered three quick shots to the remaining Meni. The first two shots hit their mark, but the third soldier reacted quickly, and got another shot into Malcolm's torso before Malcolm returned fire and hit him in the chest.
With all four soldiers unconscious, maybe even dead - who knew, he couldn't tell - Malcolm's head fell back to the floor.
He heard the faint whine of shuttlepod engines gradually growing louder, he held out till he felt the floor vibrate in time with the noise and Trip yelling his name. The reinforcements were here, and he and Trip were safe.
Malcolm blacked out.
o o o o o
There was always something both wonderful and deeply unpleasant waking up in sickbay. Malcolm had been in many a medical establishment in his time but he could never get used to the smell of disinfectant and, in Enterprise's case, the sound of alien rodents scurrying around in their cages. Especially when he thought said alien rodents might actually be used on him.
"Ah Mr Reed!" said Phlox brightly. "And how are we feeling today?"
Malcolm considered this. His chest throbbed and his leg ached, but all things considered... "I'm fine."
"Of course you are, Lieutenant," came Archer's voice as the man entered sickbay.
"However, my scanners are telling me a different story." Phlox gave him an exasperated look.
"Commander Tucker -?"
"Is doing just fine," Phlox assured him.
Malcolm craned his neck over, and sure enough Trip was in the next biobed down, looking a lot better than Malcolm felt, his arm in a sling and already sitting up. Bastard.
"I'm alright," Trip confirmed. "Although... you sure you got us in the right beds, Doc?"
Phlox frowned. "I'm not quite sure what you mean, Commander," he replied. Behind him, the Captain looked suitably perplexed.
Trip leaned over and peeled something off the panel behind his pillow, and held it up for the doctor to see. "I think I'm in Malcolm's bed."
Oh no. Malcolm experienced a sudden feeling of dread as a vague memory reared its ugly head. A faint war cry wandered across the forefront of his mind 'For England! Truth! Honour! And a damn fine cup of tea!' He wondered if it was too late to fake unconsciousness - or even death.
"I thought I'd found all of those," Phlox muttered under his breath.
Trip's eyes twinkled mischievously as he waved the sticker. "Thinking about settin' up shop in sickbay, Mal?"
Malcolm blushed, acutely aware that Archer was still in the room and watching him with interest. "I'll tell you later," he muttered. If at all.
"I'll take that if you don't mind, Commander," said Phlox briskly, stepping in to rescue the situation. "You'll need to wash your hands and then I think you're free to go."
"Wash my hands?" Trip asked frowning.
"Lets just say, Lieutenant Reed was very creative in attaching his labels to various parts of my sickbay." Phlox smiled.
Even Malcolm couldn't quite manage to hide his own smile seeing the dawning look of horror growing on Trip's face. "Am I free to go as well, Doctor?"
For a moment it actually looked like Phlox was just going to laugh in his face. But the good doctor finally just smiled that strange, stretched smile of his and patted Malcolm's shoulder. "Mr Reed, you will be spending your time here for a while longer yet. At least until the Regulan blood worms make their way out of your system."
Malcolm groaned loudly, even as Trip hopped off his bed and left to find a sink. At the rate the last lot of bloodworms had progressed through him, he was going to be stuck in here forever.