CHAPTER 8;
A MONSTROUS APPARITION
After having walked Hoshi back to her quarters, Trip had decided it was about time to get some rest as well. Hoshi had contacted Captain Archer to tell him she was not going to be reporting back for duty that evening. He had said he understood, and from the tone of his voice, Trip had believed the statement. Jon could rarely lie well in the presence of his friend.
It was now about nine o'clock, and Hoshi had yawned constantly for about half an hour before Trip had managed to persuade her to actually go to her quarters for some much needed rest. She had reluctantly obeyed, before he had resorted to actually ordering her.
Trip often forgot he was Commander of the Enterprise, under T'Pol. He disliked the fact that her Vulcan command overruled his own human rank aboard the vessel, which put him third in command, instead of second. T'Pol had not initially been intending to stay onboard, but she had requested to remain on Enterprise. He had an idea that Archer had asked her to stay. He wasn't going to think about it though. Even if he didn't like it… it was none of his business, which under normal circumstances with Jon wouldn't make any difference whatsoever. But he didn't want to stick his nose in when Vulcans were involved.
He rounded another corner, and sighed heavily, followed by a discreet yawn. He nodded to a passing crewman who had acknowledged his authority, and carried on his way.
As he walked, the matter at hand wandered back into his troubled mind, throwing him once again into confusion. He didn't understand, and hated, what was going on around him. What had caused Matheson and Reed to disappear like they had? What had happened to cause Reed to become injured, thus explaining the presence of blood? Where were they? Why couldn't they contact them? Why had he seen Matheson as a dead body? Were they dead?
Too many questions, he thought angrily, not enough goddamn answers! Where the hell are you when I need you, Malcolm?
He rounded another corner, and stopped short.
"Malcolm?" Trip managed after a couple of moments, staring at the figure who stood about twenty feet down the corridor. Reed was standing completely still, his head turned downwards, his eyes fixed on the point where Trip and Archer had found the blood earlier that day. What was Reed doing?
"Reed?" Trip ventured again, moving forward, cocking his head at the strange behaviour of his friend, who had been missing.
Reed did not move.
Trip became confused again, and edged forward another couple of feet, stopping about two metres from Reed's position.
Reed continued to stare. His head was completely turned towards the wall, whereas his body was faced towards Trip, so that the left side of his head and face was obscured from Trip's vision.
"Lieutenant?" Trip said, louder than before, hoping this time to catch Reed's attention. "Malcolm? What are you doin'?"
Reed seemed to cock his head slightly, as though he had heard Trip, but was choosing to ignore him.
"Malcolm, what happened to you? We were worried. Where have you been?"
Trip watched as Reed began turning his head in his direction.
Well, at least I know he's not dead, he thought.
Reed turned his head completely towards Trip.
"Oh my god!" Trip exclaimed loudly, taking a startled step backwards.
Most of the left side of Reed's face was missing… completely gone, torn away.
It made Trip want to gag.
Reed made a step towards him, raising a hand to reach at Trip.
Trip screamed, his voice full of terror as he tried to step backwards and away from the mutilated Reed. Trip stumbled, and fell backwards, landing hard on his back, knocking the wind out of his body. He scrambled backwards as Reed continued to move towards him, single hand outstretched, as if to grab hold of Trip.
"Get away from me! Help!" Trip cried, and managed to scramble to his feet once again, slipping slightly on the smooth ground, and then heading off at a dead run down the corridor, away from Reed.
He just kept running.
Eventually he was able to run no more, his legs succumbing to exhaustion, his lungs burning, his whole body aching.
He collapsed to the ground, on his hands and knees, breathing heavy through what felt like a shrinking windpipe. He cast a tentative glance over his shoulder.
Reed… no, it wasn't Reed… it couldn't have been. Whatever it had been was following him no longer.
Trip was certain he had passed a couple of other crewmembers as he ran, but he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything any more.
He was sure he was going to be sick though. Just remembering the bloody sight of 'Reed' made him want to vomit.
He gagged, but refused to allow himself to be physically ill… not here.
He needed to get out of the corridors… that thing had to be right behind him.
He pushed himself up, to his feet, which ached like he had never known them to, and began walking swiftly to the nearest escape. His breathing was ragged, forced, and his vision was blurring. He closed his eyes momentarily, and rubbed them with his hand, attempting to focus them again. When he once again opened his eyes, his vision was no better for his attempt, so he just kept moving.
He pulled himself along the walls with his hands, and glanced back over his shoulder every now and then to check he was alone.
When he reached the intersection though, he moved no further, and collapsed into unconsciousness on the ground.
A MONSTROUS APPARITION
After having walked Hoshi back to her quarters, Trip had decided it was about time to get some rest as well. Hoshi had contacted Captain Archer to tell him she was not going to be reporting back for duty that evening. He had said he understood, and from the tone of his voice, Trip had believed the statement. Jon could rarely lie well in the presence of his friend.
It was now about nine o'clock, and Hoshi had yawned constantly for about half an hour before Trip had managed to persuade her to actually go to her quarters for some much needed rest. She had reluctantly obeyed, before he had resorted to actually ordering her.
Trip often forgot he was Commander of the Enterprise, under T'Pol. He disliked the fact that her Vulcan command overruled his own human rank aboard the vessel, which put him third in command, instead of second. T'Pol had not initially been intending to stay onboard, but she had requested to remain on Enterprise. He had an idea that Archer had asked her to stay. He wasn't going to think about it though. Even if he didn't like it… it was none of his business, which under normal circumstances with Jon wouldn't make any difference whatsoever. But he didn't want to stick his nose in when Vulcans were involved.
He rounded another corner, and sighed heavily, followed by a discreet yawn. He nodded to a passing crewman who had acknowledged his authority, and carried on his way.
As he walked, the matter at hand wandered back into his troubled mind, throwing him once again into confusion. He didn't understand, and hated, what was going on around him. What had caused Matheson and Reed to disappear like they had? What had happened to cause Reed to become injured, thus explaining the presence of blood? Where were they? Why couldn't they contact them? Why had he seen Matheson as a dead body? Were they dead?
Too many questions, he thought angrily, not enough goddamn answers! Where the hell are you when I need you, Malcolm?
He rounded another corner, and stopped short.
"Malcolm?" Trip managed after a couple of moments, staring at the figure who stood about twenty feet down the corridor. Reed was standing completely still, his head turned downwards, his eyes fixed on the point where Trip and Archer had found the blood earlier that day. What was Reed doing?
"Reed?" Trip ventured again, moving forward, cocking his head at the strange behaviour of his friend, who had been missing.
Reed did not move.
Trip became confused again, and edged forward another couple of feet, stopping about two metres from Reed's position.
Reed continued to stare. His head was completely turned towards the wall, whereas his body was faced towards Trip, so that the left side of his head and face was obscured from Trip's vision.
"Lieutenant?" Trip said, louder than before, hoping this time to catch Reed's attention. "Malcolm? What are you doin'?"
Reed seemed to cock his head slightly, as though he had heard Trip, but was choosing to ignore him.
"Malcolm, what happened to you? We were worried. Where have you been?"
Trip watched as Reed began turning his head in his direction.
Well, at least I know he's not dead, he thought.
Reed turned his head completely towards Trip.
"Oh my god!" Trip exclaimed loudly, taking a startled step backwards.
Most of the left side of Reed's face was missing… completely gone, torn away.
It made Trip want to gag.
Reed made a step towards him, raising a hand to reach at Trip.
Trip screamed, his voice full of terror as he tried to step backwards and away from the mutilated Reed. Trip stumbled, and fell backwards, landing hard on his back, knocking the wind out of his body. He scrambled backwards as Reed continued to move towards him, single hand outstretched, as if to grab hold of Trip.
"Get away from me! Help!" Trip cried, and managed to scramble to his feet once again, slipping slightly on the smooth ground, and then heading off at a dead run down the corridor, away from Reed.
He just kept running.
Eventually he was able to run no more, his legs succumbing to exhaustion, his lungs burning, his whole body aching.
He collapsed to the ground, on his hands and knees, breathing heavy through what felt like a shrinking windpipe. He cast a tentative glance over his shoulder.
Reed… no, it wasn't Reed… it couldn't have been. Whatever it had been was following him no longer.
Trip was certain he had passed a couple of other crewmembers as he ran, but he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything any more.
He was sure he was going to be sick though. Just remembering the bloody sight of 'Reed' made him want to vomit.
He gagged, but refused to allow himself to be physically ill… not here.
He needed to get out of the corridors… that thing had to be right behind him.
He pushed himself up, to his feet, which ached like he had never known them to, and began walking swiftly to the nearest escape. His breathing was ragged, forced, and his vision was blurring. He closed his eyes momentarily, and rubbed them with his hand, attempting to focus them again. When he once again opened his eyes, his vision was no better for his attempt, so he just kept moving.
He pulled himself along the walls with his hands, and glanced back over his shoulder every now and then to check he was alone.
When he reached the intersection though, he moved no further, and collapsed into unconsciousness on the ground.