Authors Notes: Hi! This is my first Enterprise story, so I'd appreciate feedback. I've always thought there should be something else, and this is the result of my musings. Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the characters that are obviously not from the show.

Fall Through

Chapter 1: From Light to Dark

Malcolm awoke to frantic sirens and alarms drilling into his head, followed shortly by a ship-wide communication from the bridge: Tactical Alert. All personnel report to stations.

"Damn." Malcolm swung out of bed and threw on a Starfleet issue t-shirt and black trousers. He pulled on his boots and ran out the door from his quarters to the turbolift. He was just about to press the button for the bridge, when his communicator bleeped, "Hutton to Lieutenant Reed. Sir, we need you in the Armoury! The alien vessel is targeting the Armoury directly and cannons are already down!"

Weighing up his options, Malcolm simultaneously pressed the button for the Armoury and replied, "On my way." He then contacted his superiors, "Reed to the bridge. Sir, I'm needed in the Armoury-"

"Fine Lieu…ant. Com…ca…ons are goi…dow… The dec…ks are being seal…d off…some…ow."

"Bloody hell." Malcolm cursed. He wished he was up on the Bridge, knowing what was going on, but the aliens had attacked when most of the senior personnel were in bed. Inconsiderate of them, really.

As soon as Reed burst into the Armoury, however, he changed his mind about being on the Bridge. It was worse than Engineering on a bad day. Fires were blazing everywhere and crewmen were multi-tasking like there was no tomorrow. There might not be. Malcolm reminded himself.

Reed was about to attempt to get the cannons back on line when his world exploded in white.

Malcolm twisted and tentatively opened his eyes, "Damn." He muttered. Apparently Orions had advanced in their offensive technology. He scanned the cage. Crewman Rita Hutton was curled up next to him, but they were the only ones.

She twisted to look at him, "Sir, you're awake!"

"What happened, besides the obvious?"

"Everyone in the armoury was taken. We're spread out between cages, but no one's been auctioned off yet. The Enterprise got our people out of here before, right sir? They can do it again?"

Malcolm smiled reassuringly, hiding his doubt, Only if they weren't too beaten up. "From what I read of the report, Hutton, humans weren't too popular last time, we should be okay."

"Yes sir."

"This cage looks acceptable." Their conversation was interrupted by a violently, blood red alien, with deep purple eyes. It reminded Malcolm of a Suliban, except the skin was smooth. It also had hair; coarse strands of blonde spiked in all directions. It was accompanied by an Orion.

"How'll you be payin'"

"The usual way." The voice was slick, the kind that made a person's skin crawl. "However, I only want one human. We find them far too spirited to be of much use to us."

"Human?"

The red creature sighed impatiently, "Those ones. I'll have the male; the majority of my clientele want their slaves for the mines."

Malcolm tensed; he was being sold. An Orion reached into their cage and forcefully pulled out Hutton. She resisted, only to be rewarded with a sharp shock for her efforts. The crimson hand of the alien reached into a pocket of its clothes and produced some sort of gun. He then proceeded to stun each occupant of the cage; painfully.

It was cold. Very cold. Malcolm shivered; his bare skin pressed against the hard metal floor. Gasping, he sat up, far too fast. A hand pressed firmly on his chest, forcing him back down. Stars danced across his vision as he fought back nausea. "Calm down." The voice was soft and soothing, "Those guns always leave you disorientated for a while."

Blurrily, Malcolm regarded the owner of the voice. She was a human woman, with lank blonde hair. She was covered in black grime, and wore simple brown clothes, torn in many places. There were no shoes on her feet. She smiled, "Nice to see you awake. I'm Katrina. Who're you?"

"Lieutenant-" Malcolm began, only to be interrupted by Katrina.

"No titles, we are who we are here, nothing fancy. You must be a Fall Through," She smiled calmly, "Welcome to the living hell my friend. The joy that is being slaves in a Covenant mine."

Malcolm's mind tried to process what she had said, but failed as another shiver ran through his body; all he was wearing was a pair of torn brown linen trousers, presumably previously owned by another miner, from the amount of black smudges covering the garment. Katrina seemed to notice this, and dug around in the corner where they were sitting. She handed him a t-shirt and threw a rag of a blanket over to him. She shrugged, "We're kinda limited in our resources."

"Thanks. I'm Malcolm. What's a Fall Through? And Covenant?"

"You were bought by a Covenant slave trader on the Other Side. A Fall Through is someone who was born on the other side of the wormhole and is now a slave." Katrina stated.

Malcolm blinked, "Excuse me? Wormhole?"

Katrina shrugged, "Never seen it myself. My Mum was pregnant when she fell through. Then again, no one sees it. If you're bought by a trader, you're unconscious for the whole month's processing."

"I've been unconscious a month?"

"Yep. Okay, ground rules Malcolm. Welcome to the mines. We mine Oribium, used for ships and high speed space travel. Oribium is explosive in its unrefined state. We are slaves for the Covenant of Planets, the bunch of bastards who rule this galaxy. There ain't no getting back through the wormhole, only Pensari can traverse it without falling unconscious and suffering brain damage; you've probably met one, red, with a temper to match. Down here, we obey the foremen; the guys with the shockers. Other than that, don't piss off anyone and you won't get killed. Food is distributed once every three days, water once a day. Got all that?"

"I think so. Are we speaking English?"

"Nope. We're speaking Common. Each slave has a chip implanted, for shocking and for translating. Besides, you and I are the only humans here, not many Fall Through, mainly because they're smart enough not to cross Orions."

"Why doesn't anyone know about the wormhole?"

"They do. In all databases, it's marked as a no-go area on pain of death. Unfortunately, it doesn't apply for Orions; they get too much money out of it in return for being left alone. For everyone else, it's the classic way of dealing with things; out of sight out of mind and all."

A klaxon sounded and Katrina rose to her feet. "Third Shift starts." She attempted to offer Malcolm some comfort, "Maybe it'll change one day." She offered Malcolm a hand, and led him out the door of the compound that was the Third Shift compound.

He tried not to let it, but a veil of despair had settled on Malcolm. If Starfleet didn't actually know about the wormhole, the chances of him ever getting home were slim.

"Yes Admiral, I understand. Archer out." Captain Jonathan Archer groaned, and pressed his fingertips onto his eyelids in the hope of his problems magically sorting themselves out. He dreaded the conversation he was going to now have to have with his crew. He knew that he would get no verbal objections from most of the crew, not that they wouldn't think them, and he knew T'pol would go along with the decision Starfleet had made, but Trip? That little discussion he was not looking forward to.

Archer moved from his Ready Room to the Bridge, "Travis, set a course for Earth."

"Sir?" Travis questioned as everyone on the Bridge looked over to their Captain.

"We're being recalled."

"Enter." Archer was sitting looking out of the window as the stars danced past the window like fireflies.

Trip stormed in, apparently having not waited for his shift to finish before voicing his objections, "Cap'n, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Following orders Trip," Archer calmly replied, rising to face his friend, "I don't like it any more than you, but it's been three months now. The chances that we're going to find Malcolm now are next to nothing. We're just lucky we got the other crewmen back."

"But we know he's still alive! It's not like I'm living on a lie here Jon, he is alive!"

"Trip, we haven't found one trace of him since we began our search. T'pol even thinks Hutton might have been hallucinating about that red alien she keeps insisting took him; there's no record of any race like it. As far as Starfleet is now concerned, we should get back to exploring; Lieutenant Malcolm Reed is officially MIA, presumed dead. We're to have a memorial service on return to Earth."

"But-"

"No buts Commander," Archer emphasized his friend's rank, "We have to move on."

Trip strode forwards until his nose almost touched Archer's. Through clenched teeth, he hissed, "If it were you Captain, we wouldn't give up, especially Malcolm." He then turned and stormed out.

Archer sighed and sat down at his desk, guilt roiling in the pit of his stomach. He picked up a pen, and let it hover over the document. After what seemed like an age, Captain Archer scrawled his signature.

Lieutenant Reed was no longer alive, but Malcolm lived on.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: How do you think I did? I will continue this story if I get enough feedback, so please let me know you what you think!