A/N: This story takes place after the episode "Carpenter Street". The
idea hit me while watching the Xindi council scenes in the recent repeat of
"Rajiin". And it continues the building of the relationship between Trip
and T'Pol.
As always, reviews are most welcomed and appreciated.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Star Trek: Enterprise.
THE XINDI TRAP
Chapter One
"I still can't believe you and the cap'n did all that yet returned here just a second after you left," said Commander Charles Tucker III with a shake of his head. He turned to look up at T'Pol who was kneeling behind him. "At least you can't say time travel doesn't exist anymore."
T'Pol took the engineer's head between her hands and turned it back forward then she placed her fingers once again at the base of his neck. "Breathe, Mr. Tucker," she instructed. "And I do not yet believe time travel actually does exist. Crewman Daniels could have very easily transported us across light years to Earth without sending us through time. The city we visited may simply have been---behind the times as you would say."
Tucker chuckled lightly and shook his head. "You're really something, T'Pol," he said, the amusement clear in his soft voice. He flinched. "Ouch! Not so hard!"
"I apologize," said T'Pol. "However it is because you are so tense this evening that this session is so painful." The Vulcan sub-commander flattened her hands and rubbed the palms into her companion's muscles. When she felt the tension ease slightly, she again began using her fingertips. "Is something disturbing you, Mr. Tucker?"
The commander shook his head and remained silent. He dropped his chin until it rested on his bare chest then he expelled a long breath through his nose. He was seated on a pillow on T'Pol's floor, his legs crossed, his elbows resting on his knees. T'Pol shifted slightly closer to him and drew him back against her thereby giving her a better angle with which to apply downward pressure into his taut shoulders. He flinched again and she felt his muscles contract. She again flattened her hands and began massaging in small circles.
"Ah, now that feels good," Tucker sighed as he leaned into her.
"You have a highly competent crew, Commander," admonished T'Pol lightly. "Why do you choose not to use them?"
"What're you talking about? I push them harder than I should already," replied Tucker. "If I push 'em any harder, they'd collapse."
"So it is acceptable that your crew get appropriate rest but not you?"
Tucker shrugged. "I get appropriate rest, thanks to you," he replied softly.
T'Pol continued the massage. "I have noticed a change in your appearance since the funeral. I don't believe you are rested at all."
The commander sat forward and turned to face her. In the candlelight, the dark circles under his eyes seemed more pronounced. The flame cast by one of the candles reflected the hint of anger in Tucker's eyes yet he remained uncharacteristically silent.
T'Pol sat back on her heels and regarded the engineer. "Mr. Tucker?"
"I've been busy with the repairs so yeah, maybe I haven't been getting enough rest lately," Tucker admitted.
"The repairs were completed a week ago."
Tucker stood suddenly and reached for his shirt where it lay in a heap on T'Pol's bunk. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea tonight."
T'Pol stood. She watched as the commander pulled on his shirt then turned to the door. His hand hesitated over the keypad then dropped to his side.
He tipped his head back and he looked at the ceiling. "Why'd you let him do it?" he asked quietly.
"I don't understand," T'Pol replied.
Tucker turned to face her. "The captain. Why'd you let him create Sim?"
T'Pol felt her stomach constrict into the proverbial knot.
"I'm not saying I'm not grateful," Tucker continued. He stepped forward and looked down at T'Pol. "I'm just wondering why you let him do it."
"I informed him of the ethical implications involved with his decision but he had already given the order."
"Then you didn't agree with what he did."
"I understood his reasons."
Tucker stepped closer. "But you didn't agree," he pressed quietly.
T'Pol's eyes settled on the commander's mouth and she wondered briefly if his lips were as soft as Sim's. She lifted her eyes quickly to meet Tucker's. "I did not---disagree," she admitted.
Tucker stared at T'Pol for a long moment, his eyes seeming to search hers for something then he took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. "I just don't know how I'm supposed to feel," he sighed, his voice heavy with exasperation. "On one hand I'm just so damned grateful to the cap'n and to Sim but on the other hand, I never wanted anyone to die for me."
"It was Sim's choice."
"Was it?"
T'Pol looked squarely at Tucker. "Yes. I spoke with him before the surgery."
"The cap'n told me it was Sim's decision in the end and that he did it for my sister---our sister---but I just wasn't sure."
"The final decision was Sim's, Mr. Tucker," replied T'Pol. She reached forward and lifted Tucker's shirt. "Now if you'll disrobe, we can continue with your treatment."
Tucker smiled shyly at her and removed his shirt, tossing it onto her bunk.
"Please lie on your stomach," T'Pol directed.
The commander reclined across the pillows resting his chin on his crossed forearms. T'Pol carefully stradled his hips, her knees on either side of him then she leaned forward, pressing her hands into the small of Tucker's back. He exhaled a long breath and she felt his muscles relax under her touch.
"So did he annoy you as much as I do?"
T'Pol paused in her ministrations briefly. "I beg your pardon?"
"Sim," replied Tucker. "Did he annoy you like I do?"
"I do not find you---annoying, Commander."
Tucker turned his head to look at her, his eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I annoy the hell outta you, T'Pol," he said with a sideways smile.
T'Pol pressed his head back down with one hand then continued her massage. "You challenge me, you do not annoy me."
"Oh I like the sound of that," Tucker chuckled. "I challenge you. So did Sim challenge you?"
"We did not spend enough time together for me to answer that question, Mr. Tucker."
The engineer sighed and his body relaxed even more under T'Pol's hands. She continued only using her palms as she worked her way slowly up Tucker's back.
"How much time did you spend with him?"
T'Pol arched a brow at the commander's persistence. "We worked on the repairs together and we discussed his plan to free the ship."
"Ah, I see," mumbled Tucker against his forearms. He shifted slightly beneath her. "The doc said Sim had all my memories and my feelings. Did he," the engineer paused briefly. "Did he say anything about me that was, well, embarrassing?"
"Not to my knowledge," T'Pol replied with honesty.
Tucker exhaled. "Good," he murmured softly. He shifted again.
"Though I am not well-versed in what you might find---embarrassing. Perhaps if you could give me an example?" T'Pol immediately felt the muscles in Tucker's back tighten. She found his discomfort at her question illogically rewarding.
"Uh, never mind, T'Pol," the engineer replied uneasily. "Forget I asked." He turned his head and rested his cheek on his forearms then closed his eyes.
"Very well. Now breathe," directed T'Pol. She continued her ministrations in silence and the muscles under her hands finally gave in completely to her constant pressure.
After several minutes, she realized the commander had fallen deeply asleep. Carefully she stood and pulled the blanket from her bunk. She gently laid it over Tucker who then rolled onto his side. He instinctively pulled the blanket up under his chin then settled his head deeper into the pillow on which it rested.
T'Pol sat on her bunk and observed her companion. His lips parted slightly and his brow furrowed momentarily; this was not the frighteningly blank sleep she had witnessed in sickbay only mere weeks ago. She watched as his eyes shifted under their lids and knew he was beginning to dream. She wondered briefly if his thoughts were of her then she silently chided herself for her self-centeredness.
Sim had said he wasn't sure if his feelings were his own or Tucker's but T'Pol could only deduce that they in large part were Tucker's. And yet that didn't mean, she reminded herself, that she had a place in Tucker's dreams. In fact, she really had no idea where she stood with the man before her but she knew where he stood with her.
The realization of her affection for the commander had hit her hard at the very moment Sim had confessed to her. As hard as she had tried to deny their existence, the feelings were there and simply could not be cataloged away with her other emotions. She had to examine them first and acknowledge their power then accept them as a part of the person she was.
Now as T'Pol watched Tucker sleep, she wondered where along their recent journey together through the Expanse had he ceased to be just another human comrade to her. He was now Charles, a man she wanted to keep safe from harm above all others.
Quietly, she lay down on her bunk, her eyes never leaving the engineer's peaceful face.
"Morning, Trip," greeted Captain Jonathan Archer. "You're up early. Or should I say late?"
Trip turned and smiled at his commanding officer. "I was just about to call you, sir."
Archer immediately looked curious. "What've you got?" he asked as he crossed the command center to stand at Trip's side.
"Look here," Trip said as he pointed to a spot on the image displayed across the big wall screen. "There's a ship down there and its metallurgy matches the Xindi probe."
Archer furrowed his brow. "This planet looks to be uninhabited."
"I've run several scans and I've found no signs of life," Trip acknowledged with a slight nod. He hit a few buttons, the feeling of anticipation building quickly inside him. "The air is breathable, Cap'n. I'd like to take a shuttlepod down and have a look at that wreckage."
Archer looked at Trip. "I don't think so, Trip," he replied gently.
"Come on, sir. The doc's given me a clean bill of health, all the repairs are finished, and I'm dying to get off the ship for a while," Trip pleaded then he smiled at his friend. "What could happen to me on an uninhabited planet?"
Archer chuckled and shook his head. "To you? Anything."
Trip snorted. "Thanks a lot." He turned his eyes back to the screen and the dark spot that represented the Xindi wreckage. "I'll be okay, Cap'n," he urged.
"Trip," Archer sighed. "Alright but T'Pol and I are coming with you. By the way, where is T'Pol? I would have thought she'd be up already."
Trip shook his head. "She was still sleeping when I left this morning," he replied then he stopped, heat suddenly engulfing his face. He looked at Archer who stared back at him with lifted brows. "I sort of fell asleep on her floor during our session last night."
"I see," Archer replied evenly but Trip could see the twinkle of amusement in his long-time friend's eyes. "Well, she's not due on duty for another thirty minutes. Lets you and I go to the mess and get some breakfast." The captain patted Trip on the back. "Then we'll prep a shuttlepod and go have a look at that wreckage. With a little luck, maybe it'll give us a lead."
"Sounds good, sir," Trip replied with a sigh of relief.
Malcolm Reed stepped out of the shuttlepod and surveyed the scene before him. He rested his hand absently on the holster of his phase pistol as his eyes moved over the landscape.
"See anything?" asked Trip who exited the 'pod behind him.
"No, sir. Looks quiet. Ominously so."
"Quiet is a good thing, Malcolm," Archer responded as he stepped to Trip's side.
"Of course, Captain."
T'Pol joined the three men then Trip pulled the 'pod's hatch closed. The Vulcan science officer held her scanner out at arms length and turned slightly to her right.
"You picking up something?" asked Archer.
"There seems to be more wreckage a kilometer in that direction," T'Pol replied. "It appears the ship split in two when it impacted with the ground."
"Are you picking up any life signs?"
"No."
Archer nodded. "We'll split up then. T'Pol, you and Trip have a look at the other site. Malcolm and I will see what we can find here."
"Understood," replied T'Pol.
"You two keep your phase pistols and communicators handy."
"Yes, sir," replied Trip.
Malcolm watched the two senior officers walk away then he glanced at the captain.
"They'll be alright, Lieutenant. We'll keep an eye on them from here."
"Of course, sir," replied Malcolm but Archer's reassurance didn't entirely alleviate the growing apprehension he felt.
He followed the captain to the site of the downed ship, which rested nearly a quarter of a kilometer away amidst a grove of dead trees. As they approached, Malcolm pulled his phase pistol and held it at his side. He was pleased when Archer did the same. Gone was the captain who approached every away mission with boyish exuberance and optimism and Malcolm did not mourn the loss.
Archer looked down at his scanner then nodded at Malcolm. "All clear," he said.
Malcolm nodded and entered the ship first followed closely by Archer. Daylight shone through the breaks in the hull illuminating the interior of the 'pod-sized vessel. Malcolm moved to the pilot's chair and leaned over it, looking closely at the flight controls. He then knelt and pulled open a panel. He stopped. There was no wiring visible, no power source at all.
"Lieutenant," said Archer from behind him.
The armory officer quickly stood and faced his captain who held a panel door in his hand. They stared at each other and realization suddenly hit Malcolm like an anvil.
"It's a trap," gasped Archer. He quickly pulled out his communicator. "Archer to T'Pol."
There was no response.
Malcolm tightened his grip on his pistol and moved to the door. Archer appeared at his side, his scanner held in his hand.
"Do you have them, sir?" asked Malcolm.
Archer nodded. "They're surrounded by---," he began as he was already heading out the door. "They appear to be insects."
Malcolm's eyes darted to every tree. "Isn't one of the Xindi species Insectoid?"
"Damn it," cursed the captain.
The two men ran back to the shuttlepod and quickly climbed aboard without incident. Archer took the pilot's chair and kicked the engines to life as Malcolm sat at the weapons station. He scanned for and found Trip and T'Pol's bio-signs then they suddenly vanished. One by one, he watched as the Insectoid bio-signs disappeared as well.
"Captain," breathed Malcolm. "I've lost them, sir."
Continued
As always, reviews are most welcomed and appreciated.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Star Trek: Enterprise.
THE XINDI TRAP
Chapter One
"I still can't believe you and the cap'n did all that yet returned here just a second after you left," said Commander Charles Tucker III with a shake of his head. He turned to look up at T'Pol who was kneeling behind him. "At least you can't say time travel doesn't exist anymore."
T'Pol took the engineer's head between her hands and turned it back forward then she placed her fingers once again at the base of his neck. "Breathe, Mr. Tucker," she instructed. "And I do not yet believe time travel actually does exist. Crewman Daniels could have very easily transported us across light years to Earth without sending us through time. The city we visited may simply have been---behind the times as you would say."
Tucker chuckled lightly and shook his head. "You're really something, T'Pol," he said, the amusement clear in his soft voice. He flinched. "Ouch! Not so hard!"
"I apologize," said T'Pol. "However it is because you are so tense this evening that this session is so painful." The Vulcan sub-commander flattened her hands and rubbed the palms into her companion's muscles. When she felt the tension ease slightly, she again began using her fingertips. "Is something disturbing you, Mr. Tucker?"
The commander shook his head and remained silent. He dropped his chin until it rested on his bare chest then he expelled a long breath through his nose. He was seated on a pillow on T'Pol's floor, his legs crossed, his elbows resting on his knees. T'Pol shifted slightly closer to him and drew him back against her thereby giving her a better angle with which to apply downward pressure into his taut shoulders. He flinched again and she felt his muscles contract. She again flattened her hands and began massaging in small circles.
"Ah, now that feels good," Tucker sighed as he leaned into her.
"You have a highly competent crew, Commander," admonished T'Pol lightly. "Why do you choose not to use them?"
"What're you talking about? I push them harder than I should already," replied Tucker. "If I push 'em any harder, they'd collapse."
"So it is acceptable that your crew get appropriate rest but not you?"
Tucker shrugged. "I get appropriate rest, thanks to you," he replied softly.
T'Pol continued the massage. "I have noticed a change in your appearance since the funeral. I don't believe you are rested at all."
The commander sat forward and turned to face her. In the candlelight, the dark circles under his eyes seemed more pronounced. The flame cast by one of the candles reflected the hint of anger in Tucker's eyes yet he remained uncharacteristically silent.
T'Pol sat back on her heels and regarded the engineer. "Mr. Tucker?"
"I've been busy with the repairs so yeah, maybe I haven't been getting enough rest lately," Tucker admitted.
"The repairs were completed a week ago."
Tucker stood suddenly and reached for his shirt where it lay in a heap on T'Pol's bunk. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea tonight."
T'Pol stood. She watched as the commander pulled on his shirt then turned to the door. His hand hesitated over the keypad then dropped to his side.
He tipped his head back and he looked at the ceiling. "Why'd you let him do it?" he asked quietly.
"I don't understand," T'Pol replied.
Tucker turned to face her. "The captain. Why'd you let him create Sim?"
T'Pol felt her stomach constrict into the proverbial knot.
"I'm not saying I'm not grateful," Tucker continued. He stepped forward and looked down at T'Pol. "I'm just wondering why you let him do it."
"I informed him of the ethical implications involved with his decision but he had already given the order."
"Then you didn't agree with what he did."
"I understood his reasons."
Tucker stepped closer. "But you didn't agree," he pressed quietly.
T'Pol's eyes settled on the commander's mouth and she wondered briefly if his lips were as soft as Sim's. She lifted her eyes quickly to meet Tucker's. "I did not---disagree," she admitted.
Tucker stared at T'Pol for a long moment, his eyes seeming to search hers for something then he took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. "I just don't know how I'm supposed to feel," he sighed, his voice heavy with exasperation. "On one hand I'm just so damned grateful to the cap'n and to Sim but on the other hand, I never wanted anyone to die for me."
"It was Sim's choice."
"Was it?"
T'Pol looked squarely at Tucker. "Yes. I spoke with him before the surgery."
"The cap'n told me it was Sim's decision in the end and that he did it for my sister---our sister---but I just wasn't sure."
"The final decision was Sim's, Mr. Tucker," replied T'Pol. She reached forward and lifted Tucker's shirt. "Now if you'll disrobe, we can continue with your treatment."
Tucker smiled shyly at her and removed his shirt, tossing it onto her bunk.
"Please lie on your stomach," T'Pol directed.
The commander reclined across the pillows resting his chin on his crossed forearms. T'Pol carefully stradled his hips, her knees on either side of him then she leaned forward, pressing her hands into the small of Tucker's back. He exhaled a long breath and she felt his muscles relax under her touch.
"So did he annoy you as much as I do?"
T'Pol paused in her ministrations briefly. "I beg your pardon?"
"Sim," replied Tucker. "Did he annoy you like I do?"
"I do not find you---annoying, Commander."
Tucker turned his head to look at her, his eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I annoy the hell outta you, T'Pol," he said with a sideways smile.
T'Pol pressed his head back down with one hand then continued her massage. "You challenge me, you do not annoy me."
"Oh I like the sound of that," Tucker chuckled. "I challenge you. So did Sim challenge you?"
"We did not spend enough time together for me to answer that question, Mr. Tucker."
The engineer sighed and his body relaxed even more under T'Pol's hands. She continued only using her palms as she worked her way slowly up Tucker's back.
"How much time did you spend with him?"
T'Pol arched a brow at the commander's persistence. "We worked on the repairs together and we discussed his plan to free the ship."
"Ah, I see," mumbled Tucker against his forearms. He shifted slightly beneath her. "The doc said Sim had all my memories and my feelings. Did he," the engineer paused briefly. "Did he say anything about me that was, well, embarrassing?"
"Not to my knowledge," T'Pol replied with honesty.
Tucker exhaled. "Good," he murmured softly. He shifted again.
"Though I am not well-versed in what you might find---embarrassing. Perhaps if you could give me an example?" T'Pol immediately felt the muscles in Tucker's back tighten. She found his discomfort at her question illogically rewarding.
"Uh, never mind, T'Pol," the engineer replied uneasily. "Forget I asked." He turned his head and rested his cheek on his forearms then closed his eyes.
"Very well. Now breathe," directed T'Pol. She continued her ministrations in silence and the muscles under her hands finally gave in completely to her constant pressure.
After several minutes, she realized the commander had fallen deeply asleep. Carefully she stood and pulled the blanket from her bunk. She gently laid it over Tucker who then rolled onto his side. He instinctively pulled the blanket up under his chin then settled his head deeper into the pillow on which it rested.
T'Pol sat on her bunk and observed her companion. His lips parted slightly and his brow furrowed momentarily; this was not the frighteningly blank sleep she had witnessed in sickbay only mere weeks ago. She watched as his eyes shifted under their lids and knew he was beginning to dream. She wondered briefly if his thoughts were of her then she silently chided herself for her self-centeredness.
Sim had said he wasn't sure if his feelings were his own or Tucker's but T'Pol could only deduce that they in large part were Tucker's. And yet that didn't mean, she reminded herself, that she had a place in Tucker's dreams. In fact, she really had no idea where she stood with the man before her but she knew where he stood with her.
The realization of her affection for the commander had hit her hard at the very moment Sim had confessed to her. As hard as she had tried to deny their existence, the feelings were there and simply could not be cataloged away with her other emotions. She had to examine them first and acknowledge their power then accept them as a part of the person she was.
Now as T'Pol watched Tucker sleep, she wondered where along their recent journey together through the Expanse had he ceased to be just another human comrade to her. He was now Charles, a man she wanted to keep safe from harm above all others.
Quietly, she lay down on her bunk, her eyes never leaving the engineer's peaceful face.
"Morning, Trip," greeted Captain Jonathan Archer. "You're up early. Or should I say late?"
Trip turned and smiled at his commanding officer. "I was just about to call you, sir."
Archer immediately looked curious. "What've you got?" he asked as he crossed the command center to stand at Trip's side.
"Look here," Trip said as he pointed to a spot on the image displayed across the big wall screen. "There's a ship down there and its metallurgy matches the Xindi probe."
Archer furrowed his brow. "This planet looks to be uninhabited."
"I've run several scans and I've found no signs of life," Trip acknowledged with a slight nod. He hit a few buttons, the feeling of anticipation building quickly inside him. "The air is breathable, Cap'n. I'd like to take a shuttlepod down and have a look at that wreckage."
Archer looked at Trip. "I don't think so, Trip," he replied gently.
"Come on, sir. The doc's given me a clean bill of health, all the repairs are finished, and I'm dying to get off the ship for a while," Trip pleaded then he smiled at his friend. "What could happen to me on an uninhabited planet?"
Archer chuckled and shook his head. "To you? Anything."
Trip snorted. "Thanks a lot." He turned his eyes back to the screen and the dark spot that represented the Xindi wreckage. "I'll be okay, Cap'n," he urged.
"Trip," Archer sighed. "Alright but T'Pol and I are coming with you. By the way, where is T'Pol? I would have thought she'd be up already."
Trip shook his head. "She was still sleeping when I left this morning," he replied then he stopped, heat suddenly engulfing his face. He looked at Archer who stared back at him with lifted brows. "I sort of fell asleep on her floor during our session last night."
"I see," Archer replied evenly but Trip could see the twinkle of amusement in his long-time friend's eyes. "Well, she's not due on duty for another thirty minutes. Lets you and I go to the mess and get some breakfast." The captain patted Trip on the back. "Then we'll prep a shuttlepod and go have a look at that wreckage. With a little luck, maybe it'll give us a lead."
"Sounds good, sir," Trip replied with a sigh of relief.
Malcolm Reed stepped out of the shuttlepod and surveyed the scene before him. He rested his hand absently on the holster of his phase pistol as his eyes moved over the landscape.
"See anything?" asked Trip who exited the 'pod behind him.
"No, sir. Looks quiet. Ominously so."
"Quiet is a good thing, Malcolm," Archer responded as he stepped to Trip's side.
"Of course, Captain."
T'Pol joined the three men then Trip pulled the 'pod's hatch closed. The Vulcan science officer held her scanner out at arms length and turned slightly to her right.
"You picking up something?" asked Archer.
"There seems to be more wreckage a kilometer in that direction," T'Pol replied. "It appears the ship split in two when it impacted with the ground."
"Are you picking up any life signs?"
"No."
Archer nodded. "We'll split up then. T'Pol, you and Trip have a look at the other site. Malcolm and I will see what we can find here."
"Understood," replied T'Pol.
"You two keep your phase pistols and communicators handy."
"Yes, sir," replied Trip.
Malcolm watched the two senior officers walk away then he glanced at the captain.
"They'll be alright, Lieutenant. We'll keep an eye on them from here."
"Of course, sir," replied Malcolm but Archer's reassurance didn't entirely alleviate the growing apprehension he felt.
He followed the captain to the site of the downed ship, which rested nearly a quarter of a kilometer away amidst a grove of dead trees. As they approached, Malcolm pulled his phase pistol and held it at his side. He was pleased when Archer did the same. Gone was the captain who approached every away mission with boyish exuberance and optimism and Malcolm did not mourn the loss.
Archer looked down at his scanner then nodded at Malcolm. "All clear," he said.
Malcolm nodded and entered the ship first followed closely by Archer. Daylight shone through the breaks in the hull illuminating the interior of the 'pod-sized vessel. Malcolm moved to the pilot's chair and leaned over it, looking closely at the flight controls. He then knelt and pulled open a panel. He stopped. There was no wiring visible, no power source at all.
"Lieutenant," said Archer from behind him.
The armory officer quickly stood and faced his captain who held a panel door in his hand. They stared at each other and realization suddenly hit Malcolm like an anvil.
"It's a trap," gasped Archer. He quickly pulled out his communicator. "Archer to T'Pol."
There was no response.
Malcolm tightened his grip on his pistol and moved to the door. Archer appeared at his side, his scanner held in his hand.
"Do you have them, sir?" asked Malcolm.
Archer nodded. "They're surrounded by---," he began as he was already heading out the door. "They appear to be insects."
Malcolm's eyes darted to every tree. "Isn't one of the Xindi species Insectoid?"
"Damn it," cursed the captain.
The two men ran back to the shuttlepod and quickly climbed aboard without incident. Archer took the pilot's chair and kicked the engines to life as Malcolm sat at the weapons station. He scanned for and found Trip and T'Pol's bio-signs then they suddenly vanished. One by one, he watched as the Insectoid bio-signs disappeared as well.
"Captain," breathed Malcolm. "I've lost them, sir."
Continued