CHAPTER 18;
A CLOSE ENCOUNTER
Travis Mayweather looked around, calmer now, at the rest of the captive crew, and swallowed dryly, wondering what was going to happen to them now, and how they were going to escape from this place. T'Pol had claimed that this dark, and dismal unfamiliar place was nothing but an illusional play on the area they were actually being imprisoned in, but Travis didn't know what to think.
Commander Tucker was wavering in and out of consciousness, and T'Pol was keeping a close eye on him, and it even looked as though concern was marring her Vulcan features. Mayweather hadn't known it was possible for emotion to show on Vulcans. now he knew otherwise.
Matheson was sitting close to Mayweather, playing with the cuffs on her dirty sleeve, and sniffing occasionally, betraying the fact that she was more frightened than she let on. She seemed to be dealing with this bizarre situation quite well though, considering she had been here the longest.
Malcolm Reed sat slumped up against the wall the other side of Travis, wincing at the pain in the side of his head, where he was bleeding. It seemed that the bleeding had stopped now though, which was a good sign that he wasn't too badly injured after all.
"I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm really starting to hate this place," Trip mumbled, shifting slightly, hand held to his side. "How 'bout we try and find a way out?"
Everyone turned their gaze upon the Commander, and then to one another. He had a point. they weren't accomplishing anything by just sitting around, waiting for a rescue from Archer and the others. they had to try and figure it out for themselves.
Before she could make one of her typical Vulcan objections, T'Pol's head turned to face the other side of the room, and she stood, edging back towards the wall.
Everyone looked to where her eyes were fixated, and Travis immediately shot off of the floor. Reed edged up, and his blue eyes went wide. Matheson just tried to curl up into a smaller ball than she had already accomplished, her head covered by her arms. Trip immediately regained complete consciousness, and his jaw dropped open in horror.
Standing on the other side of the hauntingly dark room, crouched low under the shallow ceiling, head turned their way, was what had to be an alien of some description. It was grey in colour, its skin bearing a faint resemblance to the cold metal of the ship. It had a long, almost oblong shaped head, which was absent of anything resembling eyes. The cranium was large, suggesting an equally large brain, if in fact it actually had one to speak of. Stretching from the back of the alien's head was a powerful crest, thick and darker in shade than the rest of the body. Whether or not the crest had a use was beyond Travis' knowledge.
Perhaps this alien had psychic abilities just as Sub-Commander T'Pol had originally thought.
It had thin forearms with gripping hands on the ends, needle-like claws on the end of each of its three 'fingers', and something that substituted as a thumb. Powerful, trunk-like hind legs supported the bulk of its massive body, doubled up, almost like the legs of a kangaroo, with what looked like two knees on each leg. The feet on the ends of these gigantic hind legs resembled a dinosaur's in appearance, with huge claws that seemed able to gouge huge holes in the very floor they stood upon. A spinal ridge ran all the way from the base of its short neck, to the tip of its long, curled tail, where something similar to a stinger loomed, ready to strike. All in all, the alien appeared to be at least fourteen feet in height. crouched down the way it was, anyway.
Mayweather felt a wash of terror course through him, and he wanted to succumb to the darkness that had enveloped him when the terrifying predator had leapt onto him in the corridor, leading to his imprisonment here.
With a firm shake of the head, he reminded himself of his duty as a Starfleet officer. to explore new worlds and new civilizations, and he couldn't do a hell of a lot of exploring if he passed out. even if it was very tempting indeed.
He looked to his left at Reed, who was staring at the alien, seemingly sizing it up, probably devising a way they could 'take it down'. Clearly Malcolm wanted to dispose of the alien, as he usually did with hostiles. and this being was most definitely not your standard friendly neighbour.
Travis glanced beyond Reed to T'Pol, who looked as though she was straining, concentrating very hard on something, almost to the point of collapse. Her knees looked about ready to give.
What is she doing? The thought disturbed Travis' study of the others surrounding him, and when he again looked back to the towering alien, it was looking right at the Vulcan science officer. well, it had its long head turned in her direction anyway. How could something with no eyes look at someone?
With a frown, it occurred to Travis that the alien shouldn't even have been able to locate T'Pol without the use of eyes, when he noticed the presence of small nostrils, close to its mouth, where several layers of tiny, razor sharp teeth sat, ready to tear into whatever it got its hands on. There were no ears that Travis could tell, but still, it had to be that the being could hear and smell T'Pol if it was looking at her.
There was a noise to the far left of Travis, and when he looked, he saw Trip pushing himself up to standing height, obviously in quite a lot of pain.
"What the hell is that thing?" Trip said, quiet enough so that he hoped the being couldn't hear him, which it obviously did, because the head turned to him, and a low hiss, like that of an angry feline escaped its mouth. Clearly, it was not impressed with Trip's interruption.
T'Pol let out a sudden breath, and slumped visibly, exhausted somehow, even though she had not moved from that spot since standing originally.
Reed caught her before she fell completely to the floor, and asked, "What's wrong?"
"The alien. the psychic energies. it is overwhelming," T'Pol told him, and she held her head as though it was throbbing.
Mayweather looked back to the alien, and it turned to look at him, the hiss rising up again, sending a chill down the Ensign's spine, causing him to shudder violently.
He clamped his eyes shut, and opened them again, standing up straight and tall putting on a brave face.
The alien started to edge forward on all fours, creeping towards them, looking between its five captives, as if trying to decide who it would pick first for whatever it was eventually planning to do with them.
Reed let T'Pol stand on her own, as her strength had apparently returned, and stared long and hard at the alien.
The alien stared right back.
"If we can get past it, there might be a door on the other side," Reed said, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the alien menace that was still creeping towards them.
Trip looked towards the Lieutenant, and he cocked his head. "You're kiddin', right?"
Reed just shook his head.
Mayweather swallowed the lump in his throat.
"We would need some kind of distraction, Lieutenant, and clearly, we do not have anything that would fall into that category," T'Pol stated, her voice calm and level as always. Her emotions were safely locked away once again.
Reed smiled, that same crafty smile he always got when the Lieutenant got a plan in his mind, whether it was plausible or completely idiotic. If he was planning what Mayweather thought he was planning, then this clearly fell into the idiotic category.
T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "That would not be wise, Lieutenant. This alien's reflexes may be much quicker than what you assume, and you could be killed."
He looked away from the alien, and to the Vulcan. "Considering the alternative, Sub-Commander, I think it's worth the risk."
"Well I sure as hell don't!" Trip said loudly, cringing afterwards, and risking a glance at the alien, who made that low, menacing hissing noise again.
Reed and Trip stared at each other for a moment, before Reed started off at a run, directly in front of the alien.
"Malcolm!" Trip shouted, taking a step forwards, holding a hand to his side again, and wincing at the pain he felt there.
T'Pol took a deep breath in, and announced, "We must move quickly if Lieutenant Reed has any chance of escaping the alien before we pass it."
Mayweather helped Matheson off the ground, and the two started to jog quickly around the alien, taking a wide berth of the frightening life form.
It didn't even notice them. it seemed more concerned with Lieutenant Reed as he darted this way and that, providing an adequate distraction for the alien.
It let out a roar at him, and swiped with one of the long thin arms. He ducked and rolled under it, the rush of air from the swipe causing his tousled hair to blow about momentarily. He quickly stood, and started running the other way.
T'Pol started helping Trip around the other side of the alien from where Travis and Matheson had run, but Trip's eyes were constantly focusing on Malcolm and the alien.
"Malcolm, look out!" he yelled, as one of the huge arms shot out towards the man.
It hit Malcolm hard, knocking him down. Without a moment's hesitation, the alien proceeded to loom over him, even as he tried to edge away. Its hand clasped around his throat, lifting him clean off the ground, at least ten feet in the air. He started to choke, and he frantically tried to kick out at the alien.
Trip pulled himself out of T'Pol's grasp, and ran towards the alien, intending on helping Reed.
The alien turned its huge head, and roared loudly at him, almost blowing him over, or so it seemed. The free arm swung in a great arc, smashing right into Trip, knocking him across the room. He slammed against the far wall, and fell to the floor, completely unconscious.
Mayweather watched in horror at the scene playing out before him, and he heard Matheson whimper at his side, clutching to him for comfort. She buried her head into his shoulder, and he held onto her, trying to provide her with some sense of safety.
Malcolm winced at the tightness of the grip the alien had on him, and tried to pull it off of his neck with his own hands, failing miserably in the attempt. But still, he latched onto its arm firmly, intent on breaking free. He was visibly choking violently, and Travis was terrified his friend would suffocate.
Stepping backwards, spotting T'Pol checking on the fallen form of the Commander across the room, noticing her checking for his pulse, he bumped into something solid. He turned quickly, expecting to find another alien, but instead making out the form of a crate of some kind.
We're in a cargo hold!
His jaw dropped, and he released Matheson, throwing the lid off the container, managing to make out the shapes within. It had to be something like bottles, and even what looked to be small boxes of equipment. He immediately removed one of the bottles, and, hoping his throwing arm was what it used to be, hurled the object as hard as he could towards the alien.
The bottle smashed against the hind leg of the alien, and it screeched loudly, turning its head their way. Matheson let out a frightened noise that resembled a squeak.
"Come on, help me!" Travis told her sternly, and she quickly picked something out of the box, and threw it towards the menace. It hit the being square on the side, with a rather loud thud.
It turned to face them completely, turning its massive bulk, Malcolm and all, who was on the verge on passing out from oxygen deprivation.
Travis and Matheson continued to hurl objects like mad towards the alien, even as it neared them, striking it anywhere they could, trying to avoid hitting the very man they were trying to save.
Above the din of the smashing of bottles, and the crashing of whatever they were throwing, Mayweather could make out something very similar to the barking of a dog from outside.
The cavalry had arrived.
A CLOSE ENCOUNTER
Travis Mayweather looked around, calmer now, at the rest of the captive crew, and swallowed dryly, wondering what was going to happen to them now, and how they were going to escape from this place. T'Pol had claimed that this dark, and dismal unfamiliar place was nothing but an illusional play on the area they were actually being imprisoned in, but Travis didn't know what to think.
Commander Tucker was wavering in and out of consciousness, and T'Pol was keeping a close eye on him, and it even looked as though concern was marring her Vulcan features. Mayweather hadn't known it was possible for emotion to show on Vulcans. now he knew otherwise.
Matheson was sitting close to Mayweather, playing with the cuffs on her dirty sleeve, and sniffing occasionally, betraying the fact that she was more frightened than she let on. She seemed to be dealing with this bizarre situation quite well though, considering she had been here the longest.
Malcolm Reed sat slumped up against the wall the other side of Travis, wincing at the pain in the side of his head, where he was bleeding. It seemed that the bleeding had stopped now though, which was a good sign that he wasn't too badly injured after all.
"I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm really starting to hate this place," Trip mumbled, shifting slightly, hand held to his side. "How 'bout we try and find a way out?"
Everyone turned their gaze upon the Commander, and then to one another. He had a point. they weren't accomplishing anything by just sitting around, waiting for a rescue from Archer and the others. they had to try and figure it out for themselves.
Before she could make one of her typical Vulcan objections, T'Pol's head turned to face the other side of the room, and she stood, edging back towards the wall.
Everyone looked to where her eyes were fixated, and Travis immediately shot off of the floor. Reed edged up, and his blue eyes went wide. Matheson just tried to curl up into a smaller ball than she had already accomplished, her head covered by her arms. Trip immediately regained complete consciousness, and his jaw dropped open in horror.
Standing on the other side of the hauntingly dark room, crouched low under the shallow ceiling, head turned their way, was what had to be an alien of some description. It was grey in colour, its skin bearing a faint resemblance to the cold metal of the ship. It had a long, almost oblong shaped head, which was absent of anything resembling eyes. The cranium was large, suggesting an equally large brain, if in fact it actually had one to speak of. Stretching from the back of the alien's head was a powerful crest, thick and darker in shade than the rest of the body. Whether or not the crest had a use was beyond Travis' knowledge.
Perhaps this alien had psychic abilities just as Sub-Commander T'Pol had originally thought.
It had thin forearms with gripping hands on the ends, needle-like claws on the end of each of its three 'fingers', and something that substituted as a thumb. Powerful, trunk-like hind legs supported the bulk of its massive body, doubled up, almost like the legs of a kangaroo, with what looked like two knees on each leg. The feet on the ends of these gigantic hind legs resembled a dinosaur's in appearance, with huge claws that seemed able to gouge huge holes in the very floor they stood upon. A spinal ridge ran all the way from the base of its short neck, to the tip of its long, curled tail, where something similar to a stinger loomed, ready to strike. All in all, the alien appeared to be at least fourteen feet in height. crouched down the way it was, anyway.
Mayweather felt a wash of terror course through him, and he wanted to succumb to the darkness that had enveloped him when the terrifying predator had leapt onto him in the corridor, leading to his imprisonment here.
With a firm shake of the head, he reminded himself of his duty as a Starfleet officer. to explore new worlds and new civilizations, and he couldn't do a hell of a lot of exploring if he passed out. even if it was very tempting indeed.
He looked to his left at Reed, who was staring at the alien, seemingly sizing it up, probably devising a way they could 'take it down'. Clearly Malcolm wanted to dispose of the alien, as he usually did with hostiles. and this being was most definitely not your standard friendly neighbour.
Travis glanced beyond Reed to T'Pol, who looked as though she was straining, concentrating very hard on something, almost to the point of collapse. Her knees looked about ready to give.
What is she doing? The thought disturbed Travis' study of the others surrounding him, and when he again looked back to the towering alien, it was looking right at the Vulcan science officer. well, it had its long head turned in her direction anyway. How could something with no eyes look at someone?
With a frown, it occurred to Travis that the alien shouldn't even have been able to locate T'Pol without the use of eyes, when he noticed the presence of small nostrils, close to its mouth, where several layers of tiny, razor sharp teeth sat, ready to tear into whatever it got its hands on. There were no ears that Travis could tell, but still, it had to be that the being could hear and smell T'Pol if it was looking at her.
There was a noise to the far left of Travis, and when he looked, he saw Trip pushing himself up to standing height, obviously in quite a lot of pain.
"What the hell is that thing?" Trip said, quiet enough so that he hoped the being couldn't hear him, which it obviously did, because the head turned to him, and a low hiss, like that of an angry feline escaped its mouth. Clearly, it was not impressed with Trip's interruption.
T'Pol let out a sudden breath, and slumped visibly, exhausted somehow, even though she had not moved from that spot since standing originally.
Reed caught her before she fell completely to the floor, and asked, "What's wrong?"
"The alien. the psychic energies. it is overwhelming," T'Pol told him, and she held her head as though it was throbbing.
Mayweather looked back to the alien, and it turned to look at him, the hiss rising up again, sending a chill down the Ensign's spine, causing him to shudder violently.
He clamped his eyes shut, and opened them again, standing up straight and tall putting on a brave face.
The alien started to edge forward on all fours, creeping towards them, looking between its five captives, as if trying to decide who it would pick first for whatever it was eventually planning to do with them.
Reed let T'Pol stand on her own, as her strength had apparently returned, and stared long and hard at the alien.
The alien stared right back.
"If we can get past it, there might be a door on the other side," Reed said, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the alien menace that was still creeping towards them.
Trip looked towards the Lieutenant, and he cocked his head. "You're kiddin', right?"
Reed just shook his head.
Mayweather swallowed the lump in his throat.
"We would need some kind of distraction, Lieutenant, and clearly, we do not have anything that would fall into that category," T'Pol stated, her voice calm and level as always. Her emotions were safely locked away once again.
Reed smiled, that same crafty smile he always got when the Lieutenant got a plan in his mind, whether it was plausible or completely idiotic. If he was planning what Mayweather thought he was planning, then this clearly fell into the idiotic category.
T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "That would not be wise, Lieutenant. This alien's reflexes may be much quicker than what you assume, and you could be killed."
He looked away from the alien, and to the Vulcan. "Considering the alternative, Sub-Commander, I think it's worth the risk."
"Well I sure as hell don't!" Trip said loudly, cringing afterwards, and risking a glance at the alien, who made that low, menacing hissing noise again.
Reed and Trip stared at each other for a moment, before Reed started off at a run, directly in front of the alien.
"Malcolm!" Trip shouted, taking a step forwards, holding a hand to his side again, and wincing at the pain he felt there.
T'Pol took a deep breath in, and announced, "We must move quickly if Lieutenant Reed has any chance of escaping the alien before we pass it."
Mayweather helped Matheson off the ground, and the two started to jog quickly around the alien, taking a wide berth of the frightening life form.
It didn't even notice them. it seemed more concerned with Lieutenant Reed as he darted this way and that, providing an adequate distraction for the alien.
It let out a roar at him, and swiped with one of the long thin arms. He ducked and rolled under it, the rush of air from the swipe causing his tousled hair to blow about momentarily. He quickly stood, and started running the other way.
T'Pol started helping Trip around the other side of the alien from where Travis and Matheson had run, but Trip's eyes were constantly focusing on Malcolm and the alien.
"Malcolm, look out!" he yelled, as one of the huge arms shot out towards the man.
It hit Malcolm hard, knocking him down. Without a moment's hesitation, the alien proceeded to loom over him, even as he tried to edge away. Its hand clasped around his throat, lifting him clean off the ground, at least ten feet in the air. He started to choke, and he frantically tried to kick out at the alien.
Trip pulled himself out of T'Pol's grasp, and ran towards the alien, intending on helping Reed.
The alien turned its huge head, and roared loudly at him, almost blowing him over, or so it seemed. The free arm swung in a great arc, smashing right into Trip, knocking him across the room. He slammed against the far wall, and fell to the floor, completely unconscious.
Mayweather watched in horror at the scene playing out before him, and he heard Matheson whimper at his side, clutching to him for comfort. She buried her head into his shoulder, and he held onto her, trying to provide her with some sense of safety.
Malcolm winced at the tightness of the grip the alien had on him, and tried to pull it off of his neck with his own hands, failing miserably in the attempt. But still, he latched onto its arm firmly, intent on breaking free. He was visibly choking violently, and Travis was terrified his friend would suffocate.
Stepping backwards, spotting T'Pol checking on the fallen form of the Commander across the room, noticing her checking for his pulse, he bumped into something solid. He turned quickly, expecting to find another alien, but instead making out the form of a crate of some kind.
We're in a cargo hold!
His jaw dropped, and he released Matheson, throwing the lid off the container, managing to make out the shapes within. It had to be something like bottles, and even what looked to be small boxes of equipment. He immediately removed one of the bottles, and, hoping his throwing arm was what it used to be, hurled the object as hard as he could towards the alien.
The bottle smashed against the hind leg of the alien, and it screeched loudly, turning its head their way. Matheson let out a frightened noise that resembled a squeak.
"Come on, help me!" Travis told her sternly, and she quickly picked something out of the box, and threw it towards the menace. It hit the being square on the side, with a rather loud thud.
It turned to face them completely, turning its massive bulk, Malcolm and all, who was on the verge on passing out from oxygen deprivation.
Travis and Matheson continued to hurl objects like mad towards the alien, even as it neared them, striking it anywhere they could, trying to avoid hitting the very man they were trying to save.
Above the din of the smashing of bottles, and the crashing of whatever they were throwing, Mayweather could make out something very similar to the barking of a dog from outside.
The cavalry had arrived.