2

It was warm and sunny outside. Everything was like they'd imagined it back on the ship. A nice day out on a beautiful planet. Only the fact that none of them were in their own bodies right now cut the fun considerably.

"Can I talk to you?" Malcolm asked Trip. "In private?"

Trip nodded. "Course."

They walked a few meters towards a bunch of trees. "Do you think it's time to panic?" Malcolm asked.

Trip looked at him, at T'Pol's face that was full of emotion. Over the years he had come to learn how to read Malcolm's expressions but he couldn't interpret them right now. He wasn't used to seeing T'Pol's face other than perfectly emotionless.

"Nope," he said determinedly. "We're not gonna panic." He knew if he started to think about being stuck forever in a body that didn't belong to him, he'd go crazy within an instant. So he quickly silenced the nasty little voice that tried to pop up in the back of his head every now and then. "You heard T'Pol, she's already found somethin'. I'm sure the effect can be reversed."

Malcolm nodded. "I hope so and soon. You know how weird this is? Looking at myself and knowing that I'm actually talking to you."

"You're telling me, Malcolm. I have to remind myself every second that it's not T'Pol I'm talking to right now."

"And I can't believe it's actually me who's talking in this female voice." Malcolm looked over at the Captain who was sitting there in Porthos' body and obviously didn't know what to do. "But that's nothing compared to what's happened to the Captain."

"Yeah, he got the shitty end of the stick. Can you imagine bein' in the body of an animal?"

"I'm not sure I want to," Malcolm admitted. "Do you think he's able to speak?"

"I don't think an animal's vocal chords are made for speakin'. Unless it's a parrot."

Malcolm grinned. "Sorry, I just imagined the Captain with the voice of a parrot."

"Better not think about it."

"What do you think, is there a way we can get out of here?"

Trip shrugged. "The shuttlepod seems to be okay."

Malcolm shook his head. "Some of the circuits were fried, I could see as much."

"Shouldn't be a problem. I hope we'll be able to find the anomaly again and switch back somehow."

Malcolm grimaced. "I wish it would be so easy. Do you really think T'Pol can find a solution?"

"Who else, if not T'Pol?"

"You have a point there. Look, there she is."

They watched T'Pol come out of the shuttle, but she didn't head in their direction, walking towards a spot behind the trees. "What is she doing now?" Malcolm wondered.

"What'd'you think?" Trip grinned. "I'm sure a Vulcan body can hold its pee for ages but a human body can't. And particularly not mine."

Malcolm bit his lip. "You think she knows how to do it?"

Trip's amusement was gone. "Let's hope so."

"What should we do with the Captain? I mean with Porthos? Should we remove his trousers?"

"You can't just do that."

"But he's going to wet himself over and over."

"Can't help it. Even if there's a dog in the Cap'n's body right now, you can't let him sit here naked."

Trip looked up and saw T'Pol heading towards them. He still found it disturbing that his body could move without him being involved. "What can we do for you, Subcommander?"

"I require your assistance, Commander."

"Assistance?"

"Yes, I do not know how to handle this…" It had to be the very first time in her life that T'Pol had run out of words, Trip thought. At the same time he could feel the ears of Malcolm's body turning beet red. How the hell was he supposed to teach T'Pol how to pee like a male? It wasn't as if he was feeling comfortable talking about things like that.

"It's not that difficult, Subcommander," Malcolm helped him out. "Just open your trousers, take out what you find, aim, and go for it."

Trip only groaned.

T'Pol nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant, for this colorful instruction. I'll try to proceed like you suggested. By the way, Commander, did you know that you grow hair on your testicles?"

"What?" Incredulous, his jaw slacking, Trip stared at his own face that remained perfectly calm.

"She said that you have hair…," Malcolm supplied.

"I know what she said," Trip cut him off. Malcolm looked away, trying to hide his amusement, and suddenly Trip noticed "Porthos" who had appeared out of nowhere, a canine grin on his face.

It was unfair, Trip thought, that even though the Captain was in Porthos' body, he could understand every word they were saying. And by the way, dogs don't grin, Jon, it just doesn't look right. Trip closed his eyes for a moment, well aware that this gave Jon ammunition of his own to tease him.

"Thank you for the information, T'Pol." Trip took her arm and led her away, deciding that it was less embarrassing to show her how to pee than to stay in the company of a smirking Vulcan and a grinning dog. At least this way he could make sure that she didn't do anything wrong with the zip.

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Trip was lying under the helm console, trying to repair the fried conduits. Although it was taking its time, the task was easy. Too easy for Trip's taste because it gave him time to think. He watched Malcolm's fingers working on the circuits and thought about the chances that the effects of their body switch were irreversible, that there was a real possibility that he was stuck in this body forever. Trip closed his eyes for a moment, trying to fend off the desperate feeling that had been hiding deep inside him and was now erupting full force. "Ouch!" It was better to work with his eyes open, he decided, after he had touched a conduit that still carried some power.

"When will communications be online again, Commander?" he heard his own voice say. He glanced over at the science station where T'Pol was sitting. It still felt weird to talk to his own body. "Gimme a few minutes, Subcommander. I'm almost done here."

"I need to confer with my department, Commander, I need their readings."

"I know that, T'Pol."

Trip worked silently for another ten minutes, contemplating the fact that he was still lucky. At least he still inhabited a male body. Malcolm and T'Pol had to deal with a body of the opposite sex and Jon and Porthos… Trip sighed. He hoped with all his heart that T'Pol would find a solution.

"I think I did it, Subcommander." Trip emerged from under the console and tapped into the com system. "Shuttlepod One to Enterprise. Enterprise, do you read me?"

"We read you, Shuttlepod One," he heard Hoshi's voice after some static crackling. "Is that you, Malcolm?"

Trip was about to say no when he reconsidered. "Yes, Hoshi, it's me. We crashed on the planet, but we're all right. Or let's say, we're unharmed."

"That's good to hear. We were worried about you when we couldn't reach you." Trip could almost see Hoshi frown and knew what was coming. "I know it's you, Malcolm, but you're talking like Commander Tucker."

Trip sighed. "We'll explain later, Hoshi. Can you tell me how long we'll have daylight here?"

"Approximately for another five or six hours."

"That's good, thanks Hoshi. T'Pol has to talk to the science department. Can you put us through?"

"Of course. Just a moment."

Trip looked over at T'Pol. "I guess it would be best if you told them you were me," he suggested. "Just to avoid confusion."

T'Pol nodded as the com crackled.

"This is Hanford. What can I do for you?"

Trip smiled. Lieutenant Reena Hanford. The young woman with the silky brown hair and the sparkling eyes. A few weeks ago, he had asked her to accompany him to movie night, but she had declined. Politely, but determinedly. "Sorry, Commander, but I don't think we have much in common."

Trip could hear that she felt uncomfortable talking with him about science. "Could I talk to Subcommander T'Pol, Commander? I think it would be best to compare our results with hers."

"Subcommander T'Pol is not available at the moment. I am afraid you will have to be content with me."

Trip smirked. And T'Pol always told them that Vulcans didn't lie. Poor Reena, she probably thought that an engineer couldn't be well versed in natural sciences. And he could hear her surprise at the fact that Commander Tucker knew precisely what she was talking about.

T'Pol cut the connection and looked over at Trip. "It seems that there are unknown particles in the anomaly that have possibly interfered with the output of our impulse drive. I will have to do more research about it, but it is possible."

"You say it's possible to swap back just by flying through the anomaly again?"

"I do not think it is as simple as that but with a few modifications it might work. It is our best chance."

"Great," Trip muttered. He had expected something more scientific from T'Pol. But he was glad that there was at least a small chance to get their own bodies back.

"I'll be finished in an hour or so," he told her. "But I'll have to remove the bulkhead over there to get access to the EPS-grid." Trip stood up, stretched his body and rubbed over his face. He was sweating. Sighing, he pulled his arms out of the uniform and knotted the sleeves around his hips. Much better.

"I suggest that you take a short rest," T'Pol suggested. "Perhaps you should eat. You have been going without nutrition for the last five hours."

Trip agreed. He felt Malcolm's stomach rumble and he was sure that his friends were hungry, too. While T'Pol climbed outside to report to Archer he checked the ration packs. There was a Vulcan vegetable dish that didn't look very appetizing and Trip only hoped that his stomach could deal with it. There was also meatloaf, pasta and a Chinese dish. Okay, pasta for Malcolm, meatloaf for himself and the Chinese-. Trip grimaced. He had no idea how Jon would eat but he was sure that Chinese food wasn't good for an American dog's stomach. And what about Porthos? Of course Jon would have brought food for Porthos as well. Eventually, Trip found a box with dog biscuits. They would have to do. He heated up the food and with Malcolm's help he took the dishes outside.

"Do you want Vulcan vegetables or pasta, Malcolm?"

"I'll have the pasta. I hope T'Pol's stomach can cope with it, but I'm not very fond of Vulcan dishes."

Trip smiled understandingly and took the meatloaf and the dog biscuits over to Archer and Porthos. "I have some meatloaf for you, Cap'n," he announced. "Or would you prefer dog biscuits?"

Archer shook his head and Trip suppressed a smile. It was strange to talk to a dog and get an answer from him. "What are we goin' to do with Porthos, Cap'n? You think he'll eat the biscuits?"

Malcolm came closer. "He's still scared. I tried to persuade him to stand up earlier. He tried to walk on hands and feet, but he kept falling onto his side. He hasn't moved since. But at least he's stopped growling at me."

"Poor boy." Trip felt genuine sympathy for the dog that had been thrown into a human body. "At least we understand what's happened to us." He crouched down and offered Porthos a biscuit. "Look what I've got for you, Porthos. You love those biscuits, don't ya?"

When he got no reaction, Trip tried to push the biscuit between the Captain's lips.

"Perhaps you should try the meatloaf," Malcolm suggested.

Trip shook his head. "I don't think Porthos' taste has changed." He gave Malcolm the box with the biscuits. "Keep tryin'. I'll take care of the Cap'n."

Trip opened the meatloaf dish and put it down in front of Archer. The dog didn't move, he just looked at him. Trip sighed. "C'mon Cap'n, I know it's difficult for you, but you'll have to eat. I'd offer you a fork, but I don't think you could handle it. You'll have to make the best of things."

Trip looked to Malcolm who had succeeded in feeding Porthos some biscuits. He wasn't needed there so he returned to T'Pol. "How are the vegetables, T'Pol?"

"I have to admit the dish is a little bit tasteless."

Trip smiled. "I guess it's my fault. My taste buds are used to spicy food." He dug into the Chinese dish which tasted surprisingly alright.

"How is the Captain dealing with the situation?"

"It's humiliatin' for him to eat like an animal."

"It is not the Captain's fault that he has swapped bodies with his dog."

"You're right but it's still humiliatin'. And I don't know how we can give him and Porthos water." Trip set his empty plate aside. "I'm goin' to help Malcolm. Enjoy your food." He took a bottle of water and went over to his friends. "You thirsty, Cap'n?" He turned around. "Malcolm, can you please help me with the water?" He handed Malcolm the bottle and folded his hands. Malcolm understood and poured water into them, but Archer hesitated.

"C'mon Jon, before it starts seeping through my fingers. I'll just pretend it's Porthos drinkin' from my hands."

Hesitatingly, Archer slobbered the water out of Trip's cupped hands. "See?" Trip smiled. "It works. I hope Porthos is as cooperative as you are." He stood up and took the bottle from Malcolm's hands. "Go eat your pasta, Mal. I'm afraid it's cold by now."

"Doesn't matter I'll just heat it up again. Are you going to manage here?"

"Yeah." Trip crouched down beside Porthos. "Hey boy, I have some water for you. You've learned how to eat, haven't ya? It's goin' to be alright, y'know? T'Pol found a way to get us all back into our own bodies." Trip didn't know whether Porthos could understand him, but he knew that it was important to talk to the scared dog. And trying to reassure himself by doing so couldn't hurt either, could it? He held the bottle to Archer's lips and although the water ran out of the corners of his mouth, Porthos drank a fair amount of it.

"Yeah, that's right, boy. You're doin' well." Trip stroked over the brown hair, reminding himself that it was not his Captain sitting there. "You're a good boy, Porthos. Just hang on." Trip stood up. "Could you stay with him, Cap'n? I have to go back into the shuttlepod and finish my work." He smiled at both man and dog and went back.

"Malcolm, could you help me remove the bulkhead?" he asked when he passed his friend who was just finishing his pasta.

"Of course. How are you doing with the repairs?"

"I think I'll be done in an hour. Then we'll see if T'Pol's right."

"I hope she is," Malcolm mumbled and followed Trip into the shuttle.

"T'Pol?" Trip stopped when he saw himself standing in the rear of the shuttlepod, rummaging through the storage compartment. "Can I help you?"

"Thank you, Commander, I have already found what I was searching for." T'Pol nodded gracefully and passed them.

"Did you see what she had in her hands?" Trip asked curiously. "Or better said what she had in my hands?"

Malcolm smiled. "I thought it was the razor kit."

"Oh no, she's not goin' to shave my face." Trip blanched.

"Trip, what can go wrong with an electric razor? And women have experience in shaving as well."

Trip wasn't convinced. "I shaved this morning. There's barely any stubble."

"It must feel very odd for her to have a stubble on her face, even if there isn't much of it."

"You're right." Trip nodded. "I'll need your help removing this bulkhead, but take care of T'Pol's smooth hands."

Malcolm smiled, not rising to the bait. "These hands are a lot stronger than they look, Commander. Let's get started."

Malcolm stayed to help Trip repair the conduits in the EPS-grid. They looked up when T'Pol came back twenty minutes later. Trip took a close look at his face, relieved that he couldn't see any cuts. But the dark shade on his chin was still there. He frowned. "D'you need help shavin', T'Pol?"

"I don't require your assistance, Commander. I was successful in removing all the hair from your testicles."

There was a hard clank as the soldering iron Trip had in his hand fell to the floor. "You did what?" he cried out loud.

Malcolm was biting his lip, hard. "She shaved your bollocks."

"You didn't!" Trip felt his cheeks get hot. "You can't just shave my balls."

"The hair was causing an extremely unpleasant itch."

"Then scratch!"

"I don't scratch, Commander, and certainly not in a place like this. You should thank me."

"Thank you? For what? You disfigured me."

"I relieved your body of some very annoying hair. I cannot see how this disfigures you."

His eyes still wide with shock, Trip plopped to the ground. T'Pol lifted her eyebrows to her hairline and left without any other word.

Malcolm looked at Trip, definitely having a hard time suppressing a laugh. "They'll grow back, you know."

Trip grimaced. "How could she? It's my body, she had no right to do that."

"Don't you think you're overreacting a bit, Trip? Look, it's only a bit of hair. She didn't cut your balls off."

"You don't know what she's gonna do when she finds anythin' else annoyin'," Trip predicted in a somber tone.

"Come on Trip, you'll live. But I have to say I find it very unsettling."

"What? That I grow hair on my balls or that T'Pol shaved it off?"

"No, that my face is even able to look as stupid as you just did."

Trip threw his friend an annoyed glance, but didn't respond to the teasing. He only sat there and rubbed his arms, then he unbuttoned the sleeves of his shirt and started scratching.

"What is it, Trip? Some itching hair?"

"Very funny, Lieutenant." Trip wasn't in the mood for friendly banter. "I'm itchin' like mad. Maybe there was somethin' in that Chinese food."

Malcolm stopped in his tracks. "You had Chinese?"

"Yeah, I gave the meatloaf to the Cap'n."

"That's bloody lovely, Trip. There are spices in most Chinese dishes that I'm highly allergic to."

Trip blanched. "You're kiddin' me."

"I'm afraid not. Wait, I'll check the medkit. Maybe I'll find something to ease the itch. Stop scratching. You'll only make it worse."

Easier said than done, Lieutenant, Trip thought. His arms itched as if he were lying in a field of stinging nettles. And now his face was starting to itch as well. Malcolm caught his hands just before he started to draw his fingernails over his cheeks. "Don't."

"It's itchin' like hell, Malcolm."

"I know. But this will help." Malcolm pressed a hypospray against Trip's neck and released its contents into Trip's bloodstream. "Remove your shirt."

Malcolm pulled out a salve and started to apply a thick layer of it to Trip's face and arms.

"Anywhere else?"

"My chest."

When Malcolm was done the tube was empty but the salve and the hypo had eased the itch considerably. Malcolm suppressed a smile as he stood up again.

"What?"

"Sorry."

"About what?" Trip laid his hand on his cheek and could feel the pasty layer of salve there. He sighed deeply. "I think I shouldn't look into a mirror right now."

"You look like your own ghost."

"Like your ghost do you mean?"

Malcolm stowed away the medkit then crouched back down beside Trip. "I'm sorry, Trip. I should have warned you but I never noticed that you'd picked the Chinese dish."

"Not your fault." Trip closed his eyes, trying to ignore the itch that was still latently there. And there he had thought that he had been fortunate. This was frustrating. He glanced at Malcolm who looked at him with sympathy but couldn't suppress an amused smile. Trip knew that he had overreacted with T'Pol and had to look funny right now but to see amusement on the usually stern Vulcan face was just too much at the moment.

"Ya know, Malcolm, you should ask T'Pol if it's gonna be that time of the month any time soon."

The amusement was gone in an instant and Trip found that chalk white suited T'Pol's face perfectly.

TBC

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