Summary: It was the scariest first contact they've ever experienced.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of Star Trek Enterprise is mine. I'm making no money with this story either.
A big thank you goes to SitaZ who helped me with my English and to Exploded Pen who did a great beta job.
This story will be updated about every three days.
First Contact
1
Something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong. He felt strange. Slowly, he opened his eyes and tried to move his limbs. There was no pain. His arms and legs seemed to be alright. He lifted his hand to rub over his face and frowned. His hand looked strange, and his face felt strange to his hand. Unfamiliar so to speak, but he couldn't exactly tell why he felt this way. Groaning, he shut his eyes and tried to remember. What the hell had happened? They had been on an away mission, simple as that. T'Pol had detected an anomaly in the orbit of a planet and after days of research she had to admit that she had never seen anything like it before. And it wasn't like the Captain to leave a mystery unsolved. Besides, the planet resembled Earth. The sight of oceans, deserts, and lots of forests had stirred something akin to homesickness in them. So the Captain had put a landing party together: T'Pol for the science department, Malcolm of course for Security and Trip to pilot the shuttle, since Travis wasn't feeling so well. As if Malcolm or the Captain himself couldn't handle this flying tin cup. Any other time, Trip would have been glad to join the landing party, but there was that little problem with the warp drive, and although he trusted Hess completely he'd hated to be pulled away from his work just to play driver for the Captain. Oh yes, and Porthos had been allowed to come with them. Archer had been sure his beagle would find some wonderful trees which were in urgent need of water. "Come on, Trip," Jon had told him. "The planet's northern continent is completely uninhabited. It's a pre-warp civilization and they don't seem to have explored that continent yet. I don't have a clue why no one has settled there, but they won't detect us and that's the important thing. We'll gather some readings from the anomaly and then go on a short trip down there. You like camping, don't you? It's the perfect opportunity for some R & R. And you'll be back tomorrow, I promise."
And here they were. Crashed on that same beautiful planet. Of course they hadn't been planning to fly into the anomaly; not even the Captain would be so reckless as to go straight into an area that provided weird readings. But when they had come near it they'd been all but sucked into it. Trip had fired the thrusters and had put every ounce of energy into the engines to prevent it from happening, but to no avail. He remembered the sizzling noise and an odd smell that resembled a mixture of ozone and vomit. He had managed just in time to set the controls to an automatic landing vector when a bright flash wiped out his consciousness.
Trip groaned once again. Why does it always have to be me, he thought. He felt sore, but was otherwise unharmed. He was lying on the floor so obviously he had been thrown out of the pilot's seat. What about the rest of the crew? He looked around. There was the Captain, huddled against Porthos, holding him in a secure grip. Porthos' eyes were wide open, filled with shock and terror and he was trying desperately to wiggle out of his master's arms.
"It's okay, Porthos," Trip said. "Don't worry, I'm goin' to help you in a minute." At least that was what he wanted to say. But he stopped dead after the first two words. That wasn't his voice. It sounded weird in his ears. Alarmed, he looked at the shuttle's front section, and jumped in shock He was dead. He had to be dead. But if he was dead why would his heart beat in his chest like an overloaded warp-drive, ready to explode? But he couldn't be alive, because what he was seeing couldn't be true, plain and simple. There, still strapped to the pilot's seat, he saw himself, Trip Tucker. And now the figure began to stir. Trip swallowed hard. This was spooky. Who or, more to the point, what was there in his body? It definitely wasn't him. He watched himself undo the straps and then he met his own eyes. Curious eyes in an otherwise expressionless face. "Lieutenant? What happened?"
Lieutenant? He had passed this step in the hierarchy long ago. And where was his accent? The words had come out just as T'Pol would have spoken them. Trip suppressed a giggle that came out of the blue. He didn't feel like giggling, not in the slightest. What was going on here?
T'Pol who was sitting behind the science station, groaned. Trip frowned. He had never had heard T'Pol groan. She opened her eyes, looked at the pilot's seat and exhaled. "Looks like we're okay." She stopped dead. "Bloody hell, what's happened to my voice? Why do I sound like a woman?"
Trip looked at T'Pol and realization dawned in him, as absurd as the thought might be. "Malcolm?" he asked tentatively.
"Of course, who else?" T'Pol turned around and looked at him. Her jaw dropped. A fleeting thought crossed Trip's mind that under normal circumstances it would be nice to watch T'Pol express such clear emotions. "It's me, Trip," he explained. He looked at T'Pol, or, as he assumed, at Malcolm in T'Pol's body. Which left only one possible conclusion. "I'm in your body, aren't I?"
T'Pol only looked at him, then began to examine her body, her eyes growing more horrified by the second. Trip winced in sympathy. He still felt overwhelmed by the fact that he now inhabited Malcolm's body, but how much more horrible Malcolm must feel to be in a female body and in T'Pol of all women? The brown eyes widened as their gaze wandered over the female body. Trip looked away. It was simply too much to think about the consequences of this weird incident right now. He turned his gaze to his own body. "T'Pol?"
"Yes, Commander. I assume I am in your body?"
Trip had never thought his face could remain so calm in a weird situation like this. "That's right. Be careful with it, okay? I plan to get it back as soon as possible."
"Do you know what happened, Commander?"
"We were sucked into the anomaly. Something seems to have happened to us in there."
"But there were no gases or minerals that can initiate a body switch."
"As far…," Malcolm began and then stopped at the sound of his voice. He took a deep breath and tried again. "As far as we know."
"This will have to be the subject of a very thorough investigation. I assume we have gathered enough data during our flight through the anomaly to do so."
Trip nodded. Well said, Tucker. Never thought you were able to construct such elegant sentences. He lay back and closed his eyes, still unable to get a mental hold on the events. He was in Malcolm's body, Malcolm was stuck in T'Pol and T'Pol inhabited his own body. Suddenly Trip sat up. "What about the Cap'n?"
He looked to where Archer and Porthos were lying. Porthos had stopped his futile attempts to get out of his master's tight grip and was lying there with his eyes closed. But Archer was looking at Trip, incomprehension in his eyes.
Trip crawled over to him. "Are you all right, Cap'n?" he asked. Gently he lifted his friends arm and freed Porthos. The beagle took some clumsy steps, stumbled over his feet and fell back to the ground. "Hey boy, you okay?" Trip asked. Porthos turned his head and looked at him. There was something in the dog's eyes Trip had never seen before and it made him feel uncomfortable. He turned to Archer who looked at him with bleary eyes. "Cap'n? You okay?" There was a bloody gash on Archer's forehead, but it didn't look very serious. Trip stood up and reached for the medkit, noticing in dismay that he had to stand on his toes to reach it. As he leaned over his friend to put a band-aid on the gash, Archer's head suddenly came up and Trip felt a wet tongue lick his cheek. Startled, he shrank back. "Jon," he exclaimed, "what the hell?" He looked over to Porthos who was trying and failing to get back to his feet, stumbling as if he had never learned how to use his legs. Trip's gaze went back to Archer who had actually stuck his tongue out and had begun to pant.
"No." Trip closed his eyes and tried to get a grip on himself. "Oh no, no, no, no, no. This can't be. It's not possible." He looked back to Malcolm and T'Pol. Again it startled him to see himself sitting there. He had never known that he was able to raise his eyebrows all the way to his hairline. It looked like T'Pol had already adapted to his body and was in perfect control of it. Somehow this fact didn't sit well with Trip. "Traitor," he mumbled to himself, inaudible to his friends, or so he thought.
"What did you say, Trip?" Malcolm asked. "Who's a traitor?"
Shit. It looked like Malcolm could make use of T'Pol's excellent hearing. Great. By the way, is there anything special your body can do, Malcolm? You've got breasts and can hear the grass grow, and I'm stuck in a body too short to even reach the medkit. Trip noticed that his thoughts were not quite appropriate to the situation and he really doubted that his friend enjoyed being in a woman's body. He pulled himself together, deciding to skip Malcolm's question.
He watched his body getting up. "As unbelievable as this may be, it appears as if we have not only swapped bodies but as if the Captain and his dog have done the same. Our task at hand is to adapt to the new situation and determine a logical course of action to return to our previous state."
"Well said, T'Pol," Malcolm said, giving the Vulcan's face a sour expression. "And how do you suggest we do that?"
"I propose you take care of the Captain and Commander Tucker assess the damage to the shuttle whilst I try to examine the reasons why we have swapped bodies."
Trip nodded. "Sounds like a plan. C'mon Malcolm, I'll help you get the Captain and Porthos outside."
Malcolm got up. "Does anyone know where we are?"
Trip shrugged. "I programmed a landing vector, but there was no time to adapt it to our new position when we entered the anomaly. I'm sure we're not where we're supposed to be. But at least we don't seem to have landed near a town or somethin' like that. So let's get outside and check the surroundings."
With Malcolm's help he tried to take the Captain's body outside.
"Come on, Porthos, move," Trip begged, but the Captain's limbs remained stiff.
"He's terrified," Malcolm said.
"Yeah," Trip agreed. "Not much of a surprise, is it? He doesn't know what happened and he can't cope with this big body."
"Do you think he knows that he's in the Captain's body now?"
"I have no idea." Trip sat down by the Captain's head, gently stroking his hair. "Ouch!" He pulled his hand back, his eyes widening. "He bit me!" Incredulous, Trip looked at his hand where the patterns of Archer's teeth were to be seen, nice and regular. "Hey Porthos, what was that all about? It's me, Trip."
"But he doesn't know that," Malcolm pondered. "He's seeing me and T'Pol. T'Pol doesn't like him very much and I can't say Porthos has ever loved me."
"Great," Trip muttered, squeezing his hand until a few drops of blood came out.
"Hey, will you please be careful with me?" Malcolm demanded.
"Tell that to Porthos." Trip tried to reach for Archer's shoulders again, but stopped when he heard a dangerous growl coming out of his friend's mouth. They were getting nowhere.
Suddenly Trip felt a paw on his shin. When he looked down, he saw Porthos sitting there. Correction, he saw Archer in Porthos' body sitting there. The sounds that were coming out of the dog's mouth sounded like Archer was trying to talk but couldn't. He only succeeded in pulling a grimace which made Trip laugh in spite of himself. He stopped when the beagle kicked his leg, full force. It didn't hurt, but Trip realized that it might be a good idea not to laugh at the Captain, no matter what body he was inhabiting. "I'm sorry, Jon," he said with genuine regret. "I didn't mean to laugh at you."
The dog beside him nodded and Trip saw understanding in the brown eyes. Understanding, but also a warning not to laugh at him again.
When he had Trip's attention, Archer looked at his body and then at T'Pol and back.
Trip frowned then nodded. "Yeah, you're right. T'Pol, could you please come over here?"
"I am afraid not," Trip's own voice answered. "I think I found something and it is logical not to interrupt my research just now."
Trip groaned. It was annoying to hear himself talk in such a clipped way. "But we need you here with Porthos. He doesn't trust us," Trip told her patiently.
"The Captain's beagle has never trusted me, so I am afraid I cannot help you."
His patience was waning quickly. "But I'm afraid that you're in my body now. And Porthos doesn't know that it's you. He's terrified and he trusts my face and voice. I'm only asking you to come over here and tell Porthos that it's going to be okay."
Trip watched as his body rose with graceful dignity and knelt down in front of the Captain's body. "What do you suggest I do?" T'Pol asked.
"Talk to him," Malcolm explained. "Tell him he will be alright. Touch him. Stroke him. It's necessary to calm him down."
When T'Pol started to stroke Archer's hair Trip regretted that he hadn't brought his camera. Not that he could ever show the resulting photos to anyone else, but it would be fun to have a look at them from time to time. Later, when this was over and when they would all be back in their own bodies and able to see their little adventure from a more relaxed point of view. A nasty little voice deep inside him objected that none of them knew how to switch back, but Trip instantly told himself that they would find a way to get back into their own bodies. If he allowed himself to think otherwise, he was likely to lose it there and then. With an effort, Trip silenced the fear that was rising from deep inside him. There was no way he was going to be stuck in Malcolm's body for the rest of his life. Absolutely no way.
Absentmindedly, he had begun to stroke Porthos' soft fur when he suddenly felt the dog kick out, hitting him with his hind leg. Trip looked down and saw a reproachful look in the brown eyes. "Sorry Jon," he chuckled. "Won't happen again." He withdrew his hand. Dog or not, stroking his Captain wasn't a wise decision if he wanted to keep his hands. He was already wearing the marks of one bite, he didn't need another. He could very well understand the mood his Captain was in right now. Trapped in a dog's body, unable to talk, unable even to voice his thoughts about the situation, he must be feeling ashamed, helpless and very angry. And Trip knew better than to stroke an angry dog no matter how understanding the mind inside it was.
He stood and went to Malcolm's side. "What a sight," T'Pol's voice told him haltingly. Malcolm clearly hadn't gotten used to the fact that he sounded like a woman and had to pull himself together every time he opened his mouth.
Trip nodded and tried not to smirk at the sight of Archer rubbing his head at T'Pol's hand. He noticed that Jon had turned away, unwilling to see what Porthos was doing in his body. Again, Trip felt sympathy for his Captain. Porthos didn't notice that it wasn't Trip who was talking to him. He tried to lick the familiar face and Trip was sure that he was trying to wiggle his buttocks. Yes, Malcolm had been right. What a sight. With this he had ammunition to tease Jon for the next hundred years. But right now was not the time.
Trip went to help T'Pol getting Porthos to his feet. To Archer's feet. The dog just let it happen but didn't do much to help them. When Trip saw the dismay on his own face he noticed that Porthos had wet himself. Of course, the dog wasn't able to use a toilet and a mishap like this was likely to occur more than once. Furtively, Trip looked around. Fortunately, Archer hadn't noticed. He was occupied trying to stand on his hind legs and Trip quickly averted his gaze so as not to embarrass his Captain even more by watching his futile tries.
Trip stumbled when they reached the hatch. He still had to adapt to Malcolm's shorter built. He'd never thought that being only a few centimeters shorter would make such a difference in the coordination of his movements. What a mess. Luckily, Travis didn't even know what he had been spared. Trip was sure that the pilot was relaxing in bed right now and recovering from whatever he'd come down with. And who was the poor guy who had to face the music instead of watching the new movie tonight like he had planned? Trip sighed as he lifted Archer's legs through the hatch. Sometimes he doubted that joining Starfleet had been a good choice.
They sat Porthos down against the shuttlepod. The dog still seemed afraid to move. Trip smiled sympathetically. It had to be difficult to move such big limbs when you were used to a small body. He turned around and looked inside the pod where Archer just had fallen unceremoniously on his stomach, legs sprawled. Coordinating four legs when you were only used to two had to be difficult as well.
"Can I help you, Cap'n?" he asked, slightly anxious about the reaction.
Archer shook his head and growled when Trip came near him.
"Aw, Jon, y'know a good Cap'n doesn't bite his subordinates." The growl intensified. Trip licked his lips. "And remember it would be Malcolm who would end up with the scars."
Sobering up, Trip crouched down beside the small creature. "Jon, listen, this is kind of a weird situation to say the least, but we've gotta try to find out what happened. It's gotta be even more difficult for you and Porthos than for the rest of us. But there's no reason to feel ashamed, y'know. We're gonna be back in our own bodies in no time. We're gonna have a glass of bourbon in your quarters on Enterprise and laugh about all of this, you'll see."
The expression on the dog's face was very doubtful. Trip sighed. "I know, Jon, we still don't have a clue what's happened. But I trust T'Pol to find out and to find a way to reverse the effect. I'm not gonna believe otherwise. But as long as we are stuck in other bodies we have to make the best of things. And for you this means you've gotta try to walk on four legs. A dog's anatomy isn't made for standin' upright."
Archer nodded and carefully got up. He stood a bit wobbly but Trip refrained from helping him, and only watched him compassionately. As he reached the hatch, however Archer stopped in his tracks. Trip realized that he was afraid to jump. The engineer bit his lip. If the few centimeters he had on Malcolm made such a big difference in his coordination, how much worse did it have to be for Archer who was suddenly about one and a half meters shorter than before and dependant on four legs he wasn't used to. Being trapped in a dog's body, what a terrible idea.
Trip sighed and climbed out the hatch. Taking a quick glance around, he saw that T'Pol was still busy with Porthos and that Malcolm was checking the surroundings. "Don't bite me, Jon," he said quietly, then grabbed the dog, quickly lifted him up and sat him down again in the grass. Jon looked up at him and there was gratefulness in his eyes, but also deep embarrassment. Trip smiled at him, hoping that even without words, the Captain would know that there was no reason to feel ashamed. What a mess. Trip only hoped that T'Pol would come up with some results, and soon.
TBC
