Narcosis: Chapter 8

By Piper

See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and other story details.

~*~

T'Pol led the new away team straight to the stairs and up to the laboratories. Once there, the Captain left her and the three crewmen on guard while he and Cutler went into the lab she specified.

It was a mess. The overturned main table had left few beakers unbroken, but there were a few containers on the floor that still held some liquid. A cabinet near the door held some containers as well, along with a couple of smaller tables spaced around the room. As they moved into the lab, the body on the floor was soon hard to miss.

Cutler glanced at the body, then looked away to begin her work gathering samples. "Phlox told me to be careful not to mix anything. We don't want to cause any new reactions," she commented to him.

As she worked Jonathan knelt beside the body. It was never fun to look at a decomposing corpse, and this one was not pretty. But it was still easier than looking at the still–warm body of a girl he'd known, which he'd been forced to do a few hours earlier. With this one at least he had more of a clinical detachment.

Some of her wounds could have been self-inflicted, but what appeared to be the deathblow wasn't. She had been strangled by someone's bare hands, to the point that her neck had snapped. Had one of the other aliens Trip and T'Pol had found below deck gotten violent enough to do this? Their race might simply be violent in nature; the chemicals might have nothing to do with her death. But if that was the case, it was odd that her body was in this room.

He was reluctant to touch the body, but he thought it might be helpful for Phlox to have a sample of her tissue and blood. He mentioned it to Cutler, who agreed. While she moved around the room collecting samples of every chemical, he hunched over the body and went to work.

He collected what he needed. As he jostled the alien slightly, something fell out of her pocket. He reached for it cautiously. It was a small black device of some sort with green buttons and figures on it. As he turned it over in his glove, he accidentally pressed one of the buttons. He and Cutler both jumped as a female, alien voice suddenly filled the room.

"What is that, sir?" she asked, coming closer.

"I'm not sure," he responded. He glanced up and noticed that T'Pol had moved closer to peer through the clear wall. He gave her a slight wave to indicate that they were okay. She nodded, if a bit doubtfully, and turned back to the crewmen.

He looked at the object carefully, then tried pushing another button. The voice stopped and it began to make an odd sound. For a moment, he was afraid it was about to blow up. Then Cutler pointed out; "It sounds like it's rewinding."

She was right. He tried the button he was fairly certain had been pushed first and the sound stopped, the voice beginning again. "I think you're right. So where's the stop button?"

He found it a few minutes later and the device stopped emitting any noises at all. She knelt beside him to get a closer look. "So, it's like some sort of alien tape player?"

"Better than that. See this little area and the button right beside it? I think it's a recorder."

She glanced from the body to the device and nodded, catching on. "You think she was keeping a record of whatever they were doing up here?"

"I hope so. Even if it is just a list of chemical experiments, it could be key to figuring some of this out." He reached to tuck it into a side pocket of her sample bag, along with the biological samples from the body. "Thank you," he whispered to the dead alien, then turned back to his Ensign. "How are you doing?"

"Good, sir. I'm almost done. There really aren't that many different chemicals here. And this one," she pointed to a closed container on the floor that hadn't shattered, "appears to be the main mixture of most of the others." The floor around it was covered in the same-colored liquid, so presumably the surrounding beakers had contained the same thing before they broke. She started to open it to obtain a sample, but paused. When he looked at her questioningly, she said, "Maybe we should just take the whole thing. Phlox said no new mixtures; that could include exposing it to oxygen."

Archer nodded. "Good thinking, Ensign." She added the container to her bag and zipped it closed. He took it from her, lifting the strap onto his shoulder. "Are we ready?"

"Yes sir. Let's get out of here."

They turned to go. Suddenly a small figure darted towards them. It went through Cutler's legs, knocking her off balance. Jonathan grabbed an arm to steady her before they both spun to stare at the small creature now cowering in the corner. It was furry and rat-like, though bigger.

"Mickey?" Jonathan whispered.

Beside him, Cutler gave him an odd look. "Sir?"

"The others mentioned a creature like this. It was probably a lab subject," he mused, then put down the bag as he tried to inch closer. It didn't look like a dangerous animal. It stared back at him with wide, frightened eyes and tried to make itself smaller against the wall.

He knelt down, trying to be less threatening. Behind him, Cutler spoke up softly, "He's kind of cute."

"You like mice, Ensign?" he asked, still sliding slightly closer.

"I had three for pets when I was little. But this little guy reminds me more of my rat terrier than the rodents."

It was more the size of a small dog. The Captain cautiously reached out a gloved hand to see its reaction. Sure enough, a small nose came tentatively closer to sniff at his fingers. After a few minutes its long rat-like tail began to swish back and forth, apparently deciding that they weren't a threat and therefore happy to meet them.

"We can't just leave him here by himself, sir."

"I agree." He held out his arms and the creature scuttled into them, its big ears flopping as it moved. He lifted him and turned to hand him to Cutler. When he was settled in her arms he picked up the bag and said, "Let's go."

They left the lab and met up with the others outside. The Captain handed the sample bag to one of the crewmen. T'Pol, meanwhile, took immediate note of the animal. "Captain?" she questioned.

"We found Mickey." When she simply stared at him with raised eyebrows he continued, "We can't just leave him here. He wouldn't survive alone."

"Captain, you do not know anything about this…alien lifeform. It might not be wise to remove it from this habitat."

"We think he's just a lab subject here. And think about it…if they were exposing this animal to the same things that our crew was exposed to, why is he still alive and healthy? He could be important in figuring this out."

"Is there at least a cage to put it in?"

"I'll check," Cutler volunteered, placing the animal back into Jonathan's arms and going back into the lab. The Captain nodded to a crewman, indicating that he should go with her. Even though they had just been in there for a while, this little guy had still surprised them. He preferred playing it safe.

"I don't think he needs a cage," he felt the need to point out to T'Pol.

She was doubtful. "Does it have teeth?"

Archer shrugged, then looked to the creature. "Do you have teeth, Mickey?"

Its response was to stick out a long orange tongue and lick his faceplate. He laughed; T'Pol winced in distaste.

Cutler and the crewman reappeared shortly carrying something that strongly resembled a pet carrier. Mickey was a little reluctant, but after a bit of coaxing they managed to get him in. The crewman volunteered to carry it.

A few minutes later they were on their way back to the shuttlepod. Archer brought up the rear of the team. Just before he reached the staircase he turned back to cast a last glance at the lab that had been the source of so much suffering for his crew. He prayed that it had also just given them the answers they needed.

~*~

Back on the bridge of the Enterprise, Ensign Mayweather was not observing much activity. No aliens were threatening them with tiny ships; no crazed tactical officer was trying to take over the helm. (Since Malcolm still hadn't been found, he considered this a legitimate concern.) It was a good thing that nothing was happening since Commander Tucker had yet to grace them with his presence.

Travis was tired; too tired to worry about all of his senior officers, but that was the situation he found himself in. Commander Tucker might have his occasional irresponsible moments, but this was out of character.

He decided to try calling his quarters again. When he got no response after the third try, he sighed in frustration and made a decision. With some quick instructions to the secondary bridge crew, he left and headed for Trip's quarters himself.

Reaching the door a few minutes later, he knocked loudly. "Commander, are you in there?"

There was a rather long pause. He was about to give up when he heard, "Travis? Did something happen?"

Travis stared at the door. "Uh…no sir, everything's quiet. We just got a little worried when you didn't show up. Are you okay in there?"

"I'm fine. I'll be up in a minute."

Yeah, he'd heard that one before. Something didn't feel right here. "Are you sure? Maybe I could come in for a minute…"

"It's not a good time, Ensign. Go back to the bridge, I'll be there shortly."

Travis thought his Commander was acting more than a little weird, but at least he was alive and in one piece. And he had given him an order. Though something still felt off about all of this, one of them needed to be on the bridge. "Yes sir," he called through the door, then turned to go.

"Hey Travis, how's that crewman that was involved in the thing with Eric earlier?"

He turned back for a moment. "Uh…she's fine, sir." She'd been fine. She was never hurt. Why would he ask about Eric's hostage instead of Eric himself? He was the one in bad shape.

He got halfway down the corridor before it clicked.

Hostage.

He froze in his tracks and spun back to stare at the closed door. Why would the Commander bring up the hostage unless…what if Trip wasn't alone in there? That was one place he doubted anyone had thought to look for Malcolm. Trip was trying to give him a clue without saying anything outright. If he was Malcolm's hostage, it would certainly explain his behavior.

This could be bad. Travis had handled unhappy aliens before, but one senior officer holding another hostage was new for him.

He went through options in his head. He discarded the idea of trying to storm into Trip's quarters by himself right then and there. He'd probably get himself and Trip killed if he tried it. He decided that this needed more thought, and more heads helping with a plan. He ran back to the bridge.

He got there just in time to hear T'Pol's transmission end. He was informed that the team had just reached the shuttlepod and was on the way back. Their mission had been quite successful, by the sound of it.

They'd be docking in a few minutes. That was great for Mayweather; he'd let the Captain decide how to handle this new situation. It was a reprieve for him, but not for Commander Tucker.

He just hoped Trip could hold on until his Captain could help him.

~*~

To Be Continued