Thank you so much for all the nice reviews. It is great to see that you like the story.
7
One of the aliens was shouting angrily at them. Even though Trip couldn't understand the words, their meaning, underlined by menacing guns pointed at them, was very clear. Briefly, Trip calculated their chances. Malcolm was still unable to move, T'Pol heavily injured, Porthos was still learning to control the Captain's human body and Jon, as courageous as he was, couldn't help much in his current condition. That left him alone against five men. Trip guessed it would be best to surrender, but his insides bristled at the mere thought.
"Just drop me, Trip," he heard Malcolm whisper. "You need your hands free."
"I've got a better idea." Trip looked in the hard alien faces and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Sorry, Malcolm."
Out of the blue, he whirled around and smashed Malcolm's bootclad feet straight into the first alien's face. The man lost his weapon and stumbled backwards into his comrades. The alien guard never had a chance to recover from the unexpected attack. With a threatening growl, Jon jumped and managed to catch hold of the arm of one of the alien men. When the sharp teeth locked around his wrist, the man cried out and let go of his weapon, trying to hit the dog. As Trip was turning around to smash Malcolm's feet into another guard a movement caught his attention. Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw Porthos stagger forward and throw himself at a guard who had been aiming his weapon at Trip, ready to fire. The last one of the men suddenly slumped to the ground with a surprised expression on his face when T'Pol used the Vulcan nerve pinch on him.
Quickly but carefully, Trip let Malcolm slide to the ground and used his fists to help Jon and Porthos with their opponents. Panting with the exertion of the fight, he gathered up the weapons, three guns and two rifles, and put one of the guns in T'Pol's hand, although she seemed to be on the verge of losing consciousness. But the aliens didn't know that. Trip guided Porthos to one side, patting his shoulder. "You did great, boy," he praised him. "Why don't you take a little break?" Turning around, Trip frowned at the five men who were lying on the floor, three of them unconscious and the other two staring at the muzzles of their own guns. "I'm gonna find somethin' to restrain them."
"Trip," Malcolm said, still lying next to the wall where Trip had put him down. "It looks like they're carrying some sort of handcuffs."
Trip's eyes lit up when he saw the cuffs the men had in their pockets. "Thanks, guys. That saves us a lot of time." He took another gun and turned to the two men who were still conscious. "D'you mind getting up?" he smirked, emphasizing his request with a movement of his hand. The guards looked at each other and Trip felt genuine satisfaction at the sight of the fear in their eyes. He grabbed the jacket of one man and yanked him up; the second one following suit. Trip led them into a nearby room. One of the men looked as if he was thinking about taking his chances, but a look at Trip's grim face taught him better. Without resistance they allowed him to shackle them to a rack that was fastened to the wall and to gag them with some rags he found lying around. After Trip had dragged the unconscious men into the room and restrained them as well, he allowed himself a minute's rest. Sitting down beside Malcolm, he tried to catch his breath.
"I'm sorry, Trip," Malcolm said in a somber tone.
"What for?"
"I didn't hear this group coming. I was concentrating too much on the men ahead."
"Doesn't matter." Trip waved his hand dismissively, glad that they succeeded in overpowering the men so easily. "They were no match to us."
"That was a nice move, Commander," Malcolm stated dryly.
"Thanks to your help," Trip replied. "I hope I didn't hurt ya."
Malcolm slowly shook his head. "You didn't."
Trip's eyebrows shot up. "You can move?"
"A little. The paralysis is subsiding."
"That's great. Can you walk?"
"I'm afraid not. But you can just leave me here and I'll catch up with you when I'm able to."
Trip sighed. But before he could answer, T'Pol began to speak.
"It would be highly illogical to leave you behind, Lieutenant. As you will remember you are still inhabiting my body and I intend to have it back, which would be impossible if we left you here."
Gaping, Trip stared at her. T'Pol was sweating and she was obviously in heavy pain, but that had definitely been a joke.
Malcolm chuckled. "Must be your body that is affecting her. Perhaps she'll develop a Southern charm in the end."
"Yeah, and perhaps you're gonna develop some logic to understand that we won't leave you behind."
Jon gave a small bark.
Trip nodded. "I know, we have to go." He stood and lifted Malcolm onto his shoulders. "We have to find someplace to hide. I only hope there are no more guards around."
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They were lucky. Led by Jon, they arrived at a bulky door without further incidents. Trip put Malcolm down to open the exit door, relieved when he realized that it wasn't locked. Carefully, he peeked outside. It was still dark, but some kind of small factory hall about 50 meters away was illuminated with a lot of big spotlights. People were rushing back and forth but Trip couldn't see what they were doing. But it didn't matter.
"They are workin' on something," he told his friends. "We have to be careful but I guess we can get away without bein' noticed."
"Still, it will not be easy to find a place to hide," T'Pol said. "We cannot go anywhere."
Trip nodded. "That's right," he agreed, "but we'll buy some time. Let's find a place to hide and then we'll decide what to do." He gave T'Pol a scrutinizing look. The bandages that covered her chest were soaked with blood and he was sure that she was starting to develop a fever. She looked miserable, and it didn't help that she was still only clad in his blue briefs and had no shoes on. There was no sign that she was feeling embarrassed but Trip knew only too well how he would feel in a situation like this. Worse than this was the fact that it was cold outside. Briefly, Trip thought of going back and relieving one of the guards of his uniform. But the men were at least a head smaller than he was and none of their clothing would fit T'Pol.
Trip left his crewmates behind the building where they were out of sight. It would be no use dragging them along. Malcolm could move again if clumsily but he still wasn't able to walk and T'Pol seemed ready to pass out. Trip had to find a place where they could all lie down and rest. He was awfully tired himself; the lack of sleep, the fights and the strain of being in command were beginning to get to him. But he couldn't allow his concentration to waver. They couldn't afford to be captured again. Each look at T'Pol and the blood-soaked bandages around her chest told him what was awaiting them if the alien people managed to recapture them.
He snuck forward into the dark, throwing a suspicious look at the illuminated place every now and then. Trip wondered what they were doing and was glad that none of the people were paying any attention to their surroundings. They seemed to be in a hurry whatever it was they were doing. Trip was blinded by the lights but he could identify ladders leaning against the building and people running around on the flat roof. At least this was an explanation why there had been so few people inside.
Shrugging, he went as far away from the illuminated building as he could where he discovered a small shed at the periphery of the area that wasn't locked. Apparently it was used as a storage room and from the way it looked Trip could tell that nobody had been here for ages. Peering into the darkness, he nodded to himself approvingly. His mouth twitched when he saw a few spiders running across the floor. Bugs seem to be universal, he thought and it didn't help that these spiders were big and hairy.
"C'mon, go play outside," he muttered and pushed the biggest one out of the way. Behind some boxes he found a bunch of discarded clothes. They smelled, and Trip wrinkled his nose. They were better than nothing, though. He prepared some sort of bed for T'Pol, grabbed a blanket to cover her and hurried back to get his crewmates.
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Trip felt Jon's eyes resting on him. He wished desperately that he could talk to the Captain. It was a weird feeling that the Captain was here but couldn't talk to them, couldn't offer a solution or tell them what to do. At least Malcolm was feeling better. He was sitting next to the wall, flexing his fingers and massaging his limbs. Wrapped into the blanket, T'Pol was lying on the clothes with her eyes closed, apparently having a hard time controlling the pain. Trip had changed the bandages with the supplies he had taken from the laboratory and had noticed that the wound was beginning to look infected. Although he wasn't planning to tell his friends, he knew that time was essential. T'Pol had to see a doctor. But not one from this place.
"So what are we going to do now?" Malcolm asked. "We can't stay here for long."
"We're gonna find a way to escape from this place."
"And how do you intend to do that?" Malcolm tried to stand up, but his legs gave way and he slumped back to the floor. He snorted in frustration.
"They've got to have vehicles here. For instance the truck they brought us here with."
"And you know how to drive it?"
Trip just glanced at Malcolm.
"Okay, let's assume we succeed in stealing a vehicle and you can actually drive it," Malcolm continued. "And then? You don't have any idea where to go."
Trip pinched the bridge of his nose. "Away from here, that's for sure. Maybe we can find help outside this area."
Malcolm bit his lip. "This race seems to be highly xenophobic. I doubt that anyone would be willing to help us. And don't forget that we can't talk to them. It would be difficult to explain our situation even with our UT's, and without them I don't see any chances of doing so."
"T'Pol needs a doctor. And soon. We need to find our shuttlepod."
"How the bloody hell are we going to find it? It could be anywhere on this lovely planet. I don't know exactly how long we were on that plane, but I'm sure we covered an enormous distance and none of us knows in which direction."
"C'mon Malcolm, you're not helpin'."
"I know. Sorry, Trip." Malcolm looked at the floor, sighing. Trip knew his friend was in a bad mood because he couldn't do anything to help at the moment. And to be fair, Malcolm was absolutely right. Trip had no idea where to go, even if he found a vehicle. This strange little conglomeration of buildings seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. Trip was sure that the scientists were working on a few classified projects and the planet's population was not meant to know about them. As a consequence the next village would be miles and miles away and there was no indication at all in which direction it was. No matter how he looked at it, an escape seemed only possible with their shuttlepod, but there was absolutely no chance of finding it.
Trip looked around. His eyes locked with Jon's, but he couldn't read the Captain's thoughts. "Let's deal with everything else when we have a vehicle. First I'll try to find out what they're doin' out there. I have a feelin' that it has somethin' to do with us."
"Wait for me, Trip. I'm coming with you."
"You'd better stay here, Malcolm. You can barely stand."
"It's getting better by the minute. Just wait a bit."
"We don't have time to wait, Malcolm. Besides, you've gotta protect the Captain, T'Pol and Porthos. If you're detected, none of them are gonna be able to defend themselves."
Eventually Malcolm nodded and decided to listen to reason. "Take care of yourself, Trip."
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Taking cover behind the buildings, Trip approached the factory hall. Now he was able to see what all the commotion was about. The workers were removing the tiles from the roof. Trip frowned. He still had the distinct feeling that this had something to do with them, but he couldn't tell why it would be necessary to remove roof tiles. Shrugging, he retreated and gave the place a wide berth. There was no time to watch. He had to find a vehicle. Some food and water wouldn't be bad either. It had been hours since they'd last had something to eat and drink and Trip felt his stomach rumble.
It was too dangerous to enter the scientific buildings. Trip assumed that the scientists were sleeping, gathering their strength for the task to come: dissecting or even vivisecting the aliens that had been found in the wilderness. It wouldn't come to that, Trip vowed to himself. He would find a way to get them home.
He spotted a small building that could've been a garage. Carefully, Trip opened the door, wincing when it screeched loudly. He froze and looked around, ready to run, but no one was paying him any attention. Exhaling, Trip peered into the room. It was empty.
The engineer cursed under his breath. Where did they store that damn truck? Trip startled when he heard voices and steps approaching. The workers had finished their task and although some of them had stayed back at the building, obviously waiting for something to happen, most of them were strolling in Trip's direction. Quickly, Trip slipped inside the garage, pressing himself against a wall. The pounding of his heart drowned out the steps of the men passing by. None of them seemed inclined to look into the garage. Gathering his courage, Trip peeked outside to see where they were heading. The men didn't pay any notice to their surroundings. Judging by their body language, Trip assumed that they had been woken from their sleep to work on the roof. Perhaps they didn't even know what had happened. Trip knew that he wouldn't just go to bed if he had never seen an alien before and some had been caught in the neighborhood.
Trip waited until the last of the workers had disappeared in the building next to him. Of course it was a good thing that fewer people were around; now that they had finished their task, however, it was likely that someone in charge would want to check on the prisoners.
While he was fervently racking his mind for a way to escape, Trip suddenly heard noise in the distance. Curious, he left the garage and scanned the surroundings for its origin. The noise grew louder and he could make out a light in the sky that seemed to come nearer. Trip sneaked back to the factory hall. Once he was out of sight, he crouched down behind a wall, careful so that no light could reach him. He looked up at the sky and eventually he could see a big object approaching. It was a strange cross between a plane and a helicopter. Massive cables were attached to its underside, carrying the object that was meant to be lowered down into the factory hall. Trip watched in awe as the remaining workers sprang into action and directed the transport vehicle into the right position. The object was placed in the hall, the cables were detached and the vehicle left. No one noticed that for a split second the vehicle's searchlight wandered over a crouched figure in the shade of the wall and the broadening smile on his face.
TBC
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