CHAPTER 7: If You Must Walk, Make Ne'er a Sound
AUTHOR: MNEMOSYNE
RATING: R, for violence and some language
CATEGORY: Angst, Drama, Romance, Action, Deathfic
CODES: R/S (heavy on the R) with touches of everyone
The corridors were empty as Malcolm made his way to Engineering, and it was that very emptiness which scared him. Surely Marylebone couldn't be the only casualty of what had afflicted the crew. Could he be blessed with such luck?
He was a man born into a mariner family, yet he was afraid of drowning. No; Luck was not his lady, and he didn't trust her now.
Left, right, left, right
He focused on his feet as he ran, to keep his mind from straying to other topics. It worked, to an extent. At least his thoughts weren't riddled with worry.
Left, right, left, right, corner, speed, left, right
Hoshi was smart. She would hide herself and Emma tightly away and wait for him.
Left, right, left, right
There would be problems, of course. Food, water - he hadn't seen evidence of any of that in the message she'd left him. Malcolm had given his wife enough survival training that she would have known without thinking that such basics as sustenance and shelter were necessary to survival, even aboard a starship.
Left, right, pause, listen, left, right, left
Then there was Emma to consider. She was a baby, after all - not even a year old. What would she know about keeping quiet when the enemy was nearby? All she would understand was the hollow ache of an empty stomach or the tired crankiness of a day without a nap.
Left, right, slow, speed, left, right
Freeze
He had found another body.
It lay across the corridor in such a precise fashion, he wouldn't believe the victim had fallen naturally. This was obviously a warning, and since he seemed to be the only person moving about on the silent ship, Malcolm could only assume it was meant for him. He looked up and from side to side.
Were they watching him?
They. He was tired of thinking of his enemy in such an abstract way. Who WERE They? What had they done to the crew? WHY had they done it? What had they done that had so terrified Hoshi, yet seemed to have shed next to no blood?
Kneeling beside the corpse, Malcolm did a cursory examination of the body. Another ensign, this time one of his own: Akira Nichols. She'd been a promising young woman - Malcolm had envisioned her quickly rising through the ranks and becoming a top notch armory officer someday.
"No such day, Akira," he murmured, and passed a hand over her staring eyes to close them. As with Marylebone, a raw, red wound in her temple seemed to be the cause of death. Her pale, blue skin was cool to the touch - she'd been dead for quite some time.
"Rest easy, ensign," he said softly, before standing and stepping over her to continue his trip towards Engineering. "Not much longer now."
Instead of running again, he used the butt of his rifle to bash the grating away from a shaft in the ceiling above him. Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, he leapt up and caught the edge of the hole, then smoothly dragged himself through the hatch. As before, it was a tight fit, but he wasn't willing to risk running openly anymore; not now that someone had left a dead armory ensign as a very visible warning for him. Careful not to damage his weapon, he began to slowly, painstakingly crawl towards Engineering.
When he was about two hundred meters away from his goal, the lights flickered again. Malcolm froze, instantly alert, trying to pinpoint any unusual noises echoing along the shaft from the warp core. Nothing - not so much as a whisper from the oxygen recyclers. Still, if the power was being tinkered with, that meant someone HAD to be in Engineering. Or at the very least, he might be able to get a pinpoint on where power was being interrupted.
"Trip won't like the idea that someone's been fooling with his toys," Malcolm murmured as he recommenced his belly crawl. "That will make him VERY unhappy."
Careful to keep his movements silent and slow, it took Malcolm a good twenty minutes to reach Engineering. Laying his weapon on the floor of the shaft beside him, he swallowed and peered down through the nearest access panel into the body of the engine room. The grating obscured his view, but he could still see well enough.
The sight made him ill.
Husks. Everywhere. Once they had been human, but he couldn't call them that now. Clawlike hands and gaping, skeletal mouths decorated brittle, mummified corpses. Dry, staring eyes seemed to pierce through the metal surrounding him, turning Malcolm's stomach to water. Cold sweat like chilled marmalade slid down his spine, pooling in the hollow between his shoulder blades.
He had found the crew.
Movement near the engine caught his eye, and he quickly pulled his gaze away from his study of the dead crewmembers to investigate. //Bloody hell,// he thought in disbelief.
Trip and T'Pol were standing on the grated platform directly in front of the warp core. Or rather, T'Pol was standing. She had Trip bent backward and pinned against the engine, her powerful Vulcan strength holding the engineer in place as she kissed him for all she was worth, as though her very life depended on it.
Before Malcolm had time to comprehend what was going on, there was a blinding flash of electric blue light, temporarily blinding him. He threw a hand up to protect his eyes, and his elbow bumped into his phase rifle. It clattered against the side of the maintenance shaft.
He froze, willing his eyes to clear. When they finally did, he blinked and turned his attention back down through the grate.
A pair of sharp brown eyes in an angular, pixie-like face met his gaze, so close they were almost nose to nose.
"Bloody-!" Malcolm exclaimed, struggling to push back and away from the grate.
"Hello, Lieutenant," T'Pol said, her breath slithering across his face. "Please join us."
Before he could stop her, the science officer had curled her fingers around the grate and hauled it out of the ceiling. Malcolm tried to fend her off, but the cramped quarters of the maintenance shaft made such defense impossible. Her hand reached into the hole in the ceiling and took hold of his uniform. She gave a mighty heave, and with a cry of surprise Malcolm fell through the hole, landing in a tumble among the bone-dry bodies of the dead.