Chapter 1: The Grave
AUTHOR: Mnemosyne
SUMMARY: Trapped in the ruins of an ancient shipwreck, Malcolm struggles with demons in his subconscious, while Hoshi battles the very real specter of Fear.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine! If they were, we'd have had more "Malcolm Gives Hoshi Phaser Lessons" episodes. *firm nod!*
RATING: R
SPOILERS: Possible spoilers up to and including "The Catwalk."
CATEGORY: Drama, suspense, supernatural, friendship/romance
CODES: R/S, T'P, A, Tu
"The Poyem were a highly telepathic race which lived on what is now the edge of Vulcan explored space," T'Pol addressed the staff gathered round a table in Captain Archer's Ready Room. Beside her, a digital display showed an ever shifting, 3D wire model of a ship of unusual make and origin. "I say were because some two and a half centuries past, the Poyem annihilated themselves in a bloody and gruesome planetwide civil war." Her unemotional voice made it sound as though she were describing flower beds. "What little we know of Poyemkin has been gathered through extensive archaeological work conducted by the Vulcan Science Directorate over the past century. This knowledge has led me to believe that the ruined ship on the planet beneath us is of Poyem design."
Captain Jonathan Archer steepled his fingers on the table in front of him and stared at the revolving wire model. To his right, Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker III and Lieutenant Malcolm Reed were watching the display with piqued interest and regimental discipline, respectively. On the other side of the table, Ensigns Travis Mayweather and Hoshi Sato were staring at the image of the ship with ill-hidden fascination.
"They were flying between the stars when we were still learning how to get planes in the air," Travis said, with the breathy voice of someone who's just stepped into a cathedral and is marveling at the intricacy of its steeples.
"Judging by the archaic design of the vessel, I believe the craft was an early scout ship for their deep space exploration program," T'Pol continued, wrists crossed behind her back. "I would estimate it to be approximately seven hundred years old."
"Hot damn," Trip said with a whistle. "It's kinda like trippin' over a pyramid on Pluto, isn't it?"
"The analogy is a loose one, Commander, but fitting." The Vulcan science officer leveled the captain with a steady gaze. "This is an archaeological find of great significance, Captain. The ferocity of their civil war was such that much of the Poyem civilization was destroyed, including their ships, artillery, and other technological items of import. Other than the damage it suffered in the initial crash, and weathering sustained in the centuries since, this ship is remarkably well-preserved. The minimal atmosphere of the planet does not contain enough of the necessary caustic elements to cause substantial damage to the vessel's hull plating." She paused and arched an eyebrow. "A find such as this would give the Vulcan Science Directorate… great satisfaction."
Archer's eyes twinkled. "And if we drop it in their laps, they're going to have to think twice before badmouthing us again anytime soon." The Captain nodded his head briskly. "We'll take a team down for a look. Just a quick once over to see how structurally sound she is. T'Pol, I want you leading the away team. The Vulcan's seem to know the most about this culture - I want you recording everything you encounter down there. Take Malcolm and Hoshi with you. Malcolm, I want you to assess the safety of the ship. Should we be sending in an archaeological team, Vulcan or otherwise, I want to know they're going to be walking on solid ground. Hoshi, work with T'Pol on getting their language down pat. When we DO serve this up to the Vulcan Science Directorate, I want them eating out of our hands." He smiled at T'Pol. "No offense meant, Sub-Commander."
"Vulcans do not offend, Captain."
"You coulda fooled me," Trip murmured to Reed, making the Armory officer snicker.
"That's all for now, folks. T'Pol, be careful down there. I don't want anyone springing any seven hundred year old booby traps, all right?" Archer stood, and the others stood with him. "Dismissed."
"Why is it so cold?" Hoshi asked, shivering a little despite the modulated atmosphere of her EV suit. The interior of the Poyem ship was near pitch black, except for the harsh yellow beams of the lights attached to the away teams' helmets, and the handheld flashlights each carried. She resisted the urge to reach out and grab Lieutenant Reed's elbow for reassurance.
"The ship's atmospheric systems have been offline for seven centuries, Ensign," T'Pol reminded calmly.
"More than that, though," Hoshi persisted. "It's… colder than that." She knew she sounded silly, but the utter stillness and silence of the ship was … chilling. "It feels like a grave…"
"The crew compliment of a ship this size would have been approximately fifty," T'Pol remarked as they edged their way deeper into the dark ship. "It is almost certain none of them survived the crash, and those who may have survived would have died soon after. It is a grave."
"Sub-Commander?" Malcolm interjected, and Hoshi could tell from the tone of his voice that he was deliberately trying to steer the conversation in a new direction. She thanked him silently, and finally allowed herself to grab his elbow to prevent loosing either him or T'Pol in the dark.
"Yes, Lieutenant."
"I'm reading some sort of shaft approximately fifteen meters straight ahead." Hoshi let his accent warm her bones. "It appears to be a turbolift of some sort. It may afford us access to the other levels of this ship."
"Agreed. "
"The atmosphere also seems to be breathable, if stale. Recommend conserving the EV suits, Sub-Commander."
Hoshi saw T'Pol nod curtly in the shaft of light emitted by Malcolm's helmet light. "Agreed also."
Immediately, Hoshi began to unsnap her helmet. Despite all her protestations to the otherwise, their time hiding in the catwalk during the ion storm several months earlier hadn't cured her of her claustrophobia. Soon after, it had returned with a vengeance. The confined area of her EV helmet was nearly suffocating, despite the oxygen it supplied her.
Malcolm hadn't been lying about the staleness of the air. It was the equivalent of gargling warm, salty water - unpleasant, but endurable. At least it gave her more freedom of movement.
"Sub-Commander," she asked, trying to take her mind off the air and their eerie surroundings. "Why are the Vulcans so interested in the Poyem? There must be other dead civilizations to investigate. I'm sure there are even some living ones that warrant notice. What makes the Poyem so special?"
"As I said aboard Enterprise," the science officer replied levelly, "the Poyem were highly telepathic. As a result, they developed powerful self-control mechanisms to avoid misuse of their psychic abilities."
"You mean meditation," Malcolm supplied, still sweeping his scanner as they walked.
"Yes. Meditation. Several documents recovered from the Poyem capital city of Pashnar indicate that the Poyem were capable of entering meditative states that could last months, even years, during which time they required neither sleep nor food nor water."
"That's impossible," Hoshi breathed, eyes wide. She gripped Malcolm's arm tighter. "All living creatures need water to survive."
"Be that as it may, there were records of certain Poyems maintaining their meditative state for up to two years."
"Two years!" Hoshi exclaimed.
"That would be correct."
"Mind your step, Sub-Commander," Malcolm broke in. Hoshi felt him pull to a stop, and she stopped as well. "The shaft opening is directly ahead of us."
T'Pol stopped walking, and Malcolm moved forward. Hoshi let him go unwillingly - it made her feel that much more alone on this empty, long dead ship.
"It does appear to be some type of turbolift," Malcolm confirmed, shifting aside debris while continuing to scan. "Hoshi, can you confirm?"
Thankful for something to do other than hover, Hoshi moved forward to stand beside him. "These symbols identify it as a Transport Tube," she translated, running her fingers over the chipped alien letters painted on the wall beside the lift. T'Pol had provided her with a copy of the Vulcan database of the Poyem language prior to the trip down. It reminded her a bit of Russian.
"Six of one, half a dozen of the other," Malcolm wheezed, shoving aside a particularly large piece of debris that resembled a turbolift door. It slid away with a CRASH!, making Hoshi jump a little, and revealing a black hole in the wall.
The lift tube.
"Well, this looks like fun," Malcolm observed wryly, shining his handheld light first up the shaft, then down. "Standard design, I'd say. Something like a ladder on the back wall - probably for emergencies. Provided its structurally sound, it should give us access to the other levels of the ship."
"What do scans indicate, Lieutenant?"
"To be honest, Sub-Commander, scans are inconclusive. Whatever this material is, it's not something the scanners are familiar with. I can't honestly tell you if it'll hold you, me, Hoshi, an elephant, or a feather."
"Sounds promising," Hoshi muttered.
"Determine its integrity, Lieutenant," T'Pol responded. "I will contact Enterprise and inform them of our progress."
"Yes, Sub-Commander."
Hoshi stood back a little as Malcolm leaned into the tube. She let her eyes wander around the empty corridor. Monofilaments of dust ebbed through the beam of light emitted by her flashlight, and she wondered, not for the first time, what had become of the crew. After seven hundred years, had they disintegrated? Or were they laying about on the floor, just waiting to be tripped over in the dark?
She shivered, and this time, it wasn't from the cold.
"Well, it seems strong enough," Malcolm was saying, and she forced her attention back to the task at hand. The armory officer had his hand wrapped around one of the Transport Tube's ladder rungs and was giving it a few good tugs. "Still, I'd rather a more thorough analysis before we try actually stepping on them. I think if I readjust the sca-AAAAHHHH!"
It happened so fast, for a moment, Hoshi didn't know what was going on. One moment, Malcolm's feet were firmly planted on the floor in front of the lift. The next, he was tumbling forward into the black maw of the shaft. The ladder rung he'd been testing had snapped off in his hand, leaving him dangerously off-balance.
"Malcolm!" Hoshi yelped, and without thinking, she reached out a hand to grab hold of his arm. His momentum and weight, however, were just too much. Before she knew what was going on, she was plummeting headfirst down the shaft into a blackness darker than the one she'd left behind, with Malcolm just a split second ahead.
She thought she heard a scream. She wasn't surprised to discover it was her own.
TBC…