Grateful thanks, as usual, to my beta readers, Gabi2305 and RoaringMice

"Sorry, Commahndah, but I can't read your biosigns and we cannot figure out why. To be safe, we'll have to transport outside the structure."

Trip grabbed his communicator tightly. Damn the transporter and its glitches! Or maybe this planet, or this building in which they were trapped! Or all of them! "Third floor, south-east corner," he barked into the device. "We're practically pinned, Malcolm, get a move on!" The answer was not late in coming. "Right. Don't move. Be there in a jiffy."

Hoshi, who was sitting against the wall, now flattened - if it was even possible - more against it, as if she wanted to be absorbed into the concrete, and Trip, sitting close to her, gave her a would-be reassuring smile that felt as if it was about to crumble any moment. "You heard our rescuer, nothin' to worry about," he said patting her knee.

"Wish I had your optimism," Hoshi returned.

Her face was an inexpressive mask, but her voice betrayed the anxiousness she felt.

"I should've told the Captain to have you just take pictures of the place," she ranted. "Security would also have been a good idea." Rolling her eyes, she muttered, almost to herself, "What got into me, wanting to accompany you!"

"Well, a new world, a ghost city, no apparent dangers, exciting stuff…" Trip suggested as he looked around circumspectly.

"Yeah, exciting stuff indeed."

Enterprise's young linguist was finding space exploration a little more unnerving than she had expected. On the other hand, Trip had to admit that they hadn't exactly just been mapping star systems and meeting new friendly species as they had anticipated.

Trip shrugged. "Look, Hosh, how were we supposed to know that-"

There was a noise, and Hoshi's eyes widened. Trip fell silent and shifted, positioning himself in front of the Ensign, to shield her with his body. He had no weapon, for he had oh-so-optimistically left his phase pistol in the Shuttlepod (and if Malcolm was gonna give him an earful, as he undoubtedly was, he himself wasn't gonna let T'Pol off the hook - oh no Sir! - for declaring the planet free from dangers). However, as they were running through the corridors of the abandoned building they had been exploring, looking for a safe place in which to hide, Trip had picked up a long, pointy thing from the ground, and now he raised it and thrust it forward a couple of times, to test its handiness. "It's probably Malcolm," he softly cast over his shoulder. A loud snort immediately disillusioned him. Trip bit hard on his lip. He debated with himself for a moment, then grabbed Hoshi's arm and silently beckoned her to follow him.

"But Malcolm said-" she started in a tense whisper.

Trip cut her off with a frantic signal to shut up and dragged her away from the corner of the room. "We can't stay put. It's either keep ahead of them or..."

Malcolm realised his soft curse hadn't been all that soft when he saw Rostov raise an eyebrow. Well, for heaven's sake, a bit of frustration was more than justified! The damn transporter was what he'd originally thought, only good to transport fruits and vegetables. When you needed it most, there was always something that prevented you from putting it to its best use! He met the engineer's gaze squarely. "Transport us to the vicinity of the building, Ensign." And let's hope that the bloody thing works, and we don't end up inside a block of cement, he silently added.

With a sharp nod, Malcolm signalled his SIC Bernhard Müller, and they both jumped onto the transporter pad. No words passed between them; none were necessary: Bernhard knew exactly what was expected of him, Malcolm had trained him well, and he hated to waste his breath unnecessarily. Without delay, Rostov initiated the two Armoury men's transport, and the scene soon changed from the well-lit and neat environment of Enterprise's corridors to a landscape of silence and desolation. This ghost city was not the consequence of war: it looked as if the place had been abandoned in a hurry, with some of the buildings still under construction, like the one in which Trip and Hoshi currently were.

After checking on Bernhard, Malcolm pointed to a flight of stairs, and they headed for it, Malcolm counting the floors in his head as they climbed. One, two… Third floor. Stopping, he cautiously leaned one shoulder against the wall at the top of the stairs and peeked out of it, taking a moment to look around while he got his bearings and brought his breathing under control. Then he touched Bernhard's elbow and silently pointed right and then left, showing which side of the large corridor that opened before them each of them was to take, and the Ensign nodded. They began to proceed through the silent building, ears pinned, and weapons drawn.

Where the hell were Trip and Hoshi? Third floor, south-east corner… but no one was in sight. Malcolm paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes as if that could sharpen his hearing. All was silent. Well. Reaching for his arm pocket, he flipped his communicator open.

"Commander, where are you?"

"Malcolm, we had to move," Trip's slightly out-of-breath voice replied right away, "they were comin' at us. Where are you?"

Malcolm licked his lips. "We've just climbed to the third floor. In which direction did you move?"

"I dunno, we took so many twists and turns that-"

"We're heading north," Hoshi's voice interrupted, matter-of-factly. "And we keep hearing them on our heels. So, get. here. soon, Lieutenant."

Malcolm blinked and straightened his back, almost standing at attention. "Right. Hold tight." He felt a presence behind him and turned abruptly, muscles tensing, but it was only Bernhard, stealthily trotting his way.

"Lieutenant, there is no one on the right side of the building," Müller reported.

"They've had to change position, I just talked to Commander Tucker. They're headed north." Malcolm turned on his heels. "Come on. It's that way."

"What's taking him so long?" Trip wondered, dragging Hoshi along through their eerie surroundings.

"He'll never find us, if we keep changing position!" Hoshi ranted.

Trip was about to reply when another loud snort made Hoshi sprint past him. He closed his mouth and ran after her. After turning the umpteenth corner, Trip grabbed Hoshi's arm and brought her to a halt. "Malcolm will never find us," he agreed, as they leaned against a wall to catch their breath. "This reminds me of an old movie," Trip panted, wiping a sleave over his brow. "A pretty scary one about-"

"TRIP!" Hoshi cut him off.

"I get it: tell ya later. Come on."

"Where on earth are they?" Malcolm wondered. He blew out a frustrated breath. "We've pretty much scoured the entire bloody floor!"

"They must have moved again, Sir," was Müller's pacific conclusion, albeit accompanied by a puzzled scratch of his auburn hair. "Maybe we keep missing each other."

"Great." Malcolm narrowed his eyes in thought. He was about to unzip his arm pocket and page Trip again when realisation struck him. "Oh, for Heaven's sake, of course!" he exclaimed, banging a palm on his forehead. "Follow me, Ensign."

"Darn! End of the line," Trip cursed in a slightly quivering voice, coming to a halt in front of a grey, concrete wall.

In their meanderings, they had managed to get to the end of the building, to a spot without exits. He leaned out of the opening that would have ended up being a window, had the building been completed, and looked down. An eight/ten meters drop was a bit too high to jump. Grabbing his primitive weapon tightly, he turned to face their foes. "Stay behind me, Hosh."

But there was something to be said about their young Linguist: when things got tough, so could she.

"I'm not going to stand back like a damsel of old, oh no, Sir," she belligerently growled, grabbing some sort of bricks that stood in a pile in a corner of the room.

"Come on, Malcolm," Trip pleaded through clenched teeth, "this would be a real good moment to show up."

There they were, those overgrown cats. Six beady little eyes bulging from scaly heads that seemed too small to contain them: in other words, 360-degree vision; powerful jaws, the sinewy build and sharp claws of felines, just the size of a pony, eight legs each - though Trip couldn't bet on it, for he hadn't actually counted them - and the unhurried stealth of predators who knew they had their quarries cornered.

What happened afterwards was to remain a confused jumble. There were snorts, screeches and shouts, sticks landing blows, bricks being hurled, and jaws closing on flesh; then phase pistol zaps, wings suddenly sprouting and creatures unexpectedly taking to the air and flying out of the window. Trip ducked just in time.

The next thing he knew, Trip was sitting on the ground. He looked up and saw Malcolm nimbly leap over three fallen beasts. In a flash he was kneeling beside him. The man delicately opened the fabric of his uniform leg where it had been torn by those fearful fangs and winced. It was then that Trip began to feel the pain, and Hoshi's hand tighten on his shoulder.

"You okay, Hosh?" he forced out through gritted teeth, twisting to cast her an assessing glance.

Hoshi blew a strand of hair out of the way. "All in one piece, which is more than we can say of you."

Malcolm reached for a pocket and produced some first-aid bandages. "Good thing I always come prepared," he said, tearing the seal open.

"I'd rather you'd come punctual," Trip groaned, receiving a deadpan look from the Armoury Officer. Biting his lip against the pain, he watched Malcolm tend to his wound, staunching the blood and bandaging the leg as best he could. No one spoke. Despite her reassuring words, Hoshi seemed shaken, and Müller was a man of few words at the best of times.

"Come on," Malcolm finally said. He waved a thumb over his shoulder. "I don't know how long those lovely pussy-cats are going to remain stunned."

He held out his arms and Trip gratefully accepted the help. With Müller supporting him on one side and Malcolm on the other, Trip hopped to the staircase, and they silently made their way to the outside of the building, where the Shuttlepod Trip and Hoshi had taken down to the planet was waiting.

"So, is our Chief Engineer going to live?"

Entering Sickbay, Malcolm's smile fell as soon as he met Trip's pissed-off gaze. Obviously, the man was in no mood for bantering.

"Of course!" Phlox cheerfully and quite obliviously replied. "I gave him a few stitches and he'll limp for a few days, but he'll be just fine. Of course if he allowed my osmotic eel to- "

"Doc!" Trip cut him off. "I said no."

"As you wish," Phlox acquiesced in a tone that spoke plenty. With that, he raised a hypospray. "For the pain," he said, watching the Engineer offer his neck. He injected the med."Come to see me if it wears out and the leg bothers you. Try not to walk on it too much."

"Thanks." With a sigh, Trip carefully lowered himself off the biobed and tightened the strings of the Sickbay pants Phlox had given him. His uniform lay bloodied and discarded in a waste basket.

As soon as the Sickbay doors had closed behind them, Trip shot Malcolm a sideway glance. "So, care to tell me what the hell took you so long? A moment later, and we'd have been eaten and digested!"

"Well…" Malcolm cleared his throat. "The thing is, you and I don't speak the same language."

"Wh-at?" Trip stopped and waited until Malcolm had done the same and turned to him, so that he could catch his eye. "Third floor, south-east corner, Malcolm: it's not exactly Chinese. Alright, after we had to move, but you should've been there with time to spare!"

Malcolm diverted his gaze from Trip's accusing blue eyes and fixed it on the deck plating. Blowing a breath out, he pointed out, "For one, you weren't on the third floor but on the second."

"We were not."

"You were too."

Silence fell while they studied each other, Trip hands on his hips, Malcolm arms crossed over his chest.

"What the devil are ya talking about," Trip finally fired, deadpan. "For your information I can count to three."

Malcolm sighed. "I have no doubt you can count to three, but you Americans have got some things completely wrong. What you call the first floor is really the ground floor. Hence, you were on the second floor, not the third."

"Oh yeah? And who's to say that you Brits are right, and we Americans are wrong?"

"Because it makes sense: the floor that's on the ground is the ground floor."

"The first floor you encounter enterin' a building is the first floor," Trip retorted.

Knowing that he could never win the argument, Malcolm pointed a reproachful finger at Trip. "And why were you without a weapon?" In his tactical book, attack was always the best defence.

Trip licked his lips, seemingly searching his brains for a plausible reply. He was saved by a bewildered female voice…

"I don't believe it! Was that why we were almost mangled to death? Because of a language problem?"

They both turned to a wide-eyed Hoshi, who had obviously caught the entire conversation.

Malcolm winced. Put that way, it sounded rather appalling. "Of course, there was also the fact that you kept changing position," he reasoned. Hell, the truth remained the same… "But the main problem was getting the bloody floor right."

Hoshi shook her head, as if to clear it of some cobwebs.

"You of all people should appreciate a language problem, Ensign," Malcolm parried.

"Gawd!" Trip blurted out, resuming his limping march, "I thought we all spoke English here."

"Apparently not," Malcolm muttered. Damn. Another security issue to address.

Hoshi unexpectedly broke into giggles. "You say Potayto, I say Potahto…" she hummed. "Speaking of potatoes: come on, guys, I'm famished. Nerves always make me hungry. Let's grab a bite to eat."

Trip's mood immediately lifted. "I think today Chef was making that Italian recipe with parmesan cheese, tomato sauce and eggplant."

"Ha! You see?" Malcolm exclaimed triumphantly, "it's called aubergine."

"Eggplant."

"Aubergine."

"Maybe you could have the zucchini quiche instead," Hoshi irritably cut them off.

"You must mean courgettes," Malcolm corrected her.

Trip was about to open his mouth when T'Pol appeared.

"Commander, Lieutenant, Ensign," she greeted them curtly. She gave a would-be unobtrusive glance at Trip's Sickbay top and pants and added, "It was regrettable that my survey did not recognise that the planet hosted perilous creatures."

"Tell me about it," Trip retorted with a lopsided smirk.

"I will endeavour to find out why that was," T'Pol, who didn't seem to have noticed, continued. "I believe the scales of those animals might have reflected and impaired my scanning."

"Trip!" another voice called.

Archer was coming towards them with long strides.

"I was just on my way to Sickbay to check on you," the Captain said, looking his Chief Engineer up and down a couple of times.

"I'm fine, Capt'n. Just a few stitches, nothing to worry about."

Archer blew out a relieved breath and glanced at Hoshi. "Scary adventure, from what I've been able to gather…"

Trip smiled. "She was terrific, down there," he said, making Hoshi blush. "You'll have my report before the end of the day, Sir."

"No rush." Archer patted his Chief Engineer's shoulder, "Why don't you take it easy for the rest of the day. Search the database for a nice movie. It's just what we could use, tonight."

Trip broke into an amused smile. "If those are your orders… Thanks, Capt'n."

"Good!"

Archer and T'Pol went off towards the turbo-lift, and Malcolm commented under his breath, "At least they didn't call it the turbo-elevator."

"Undoubtedly, a British engineer must've had a say in that," Trip said, giving Malcolm a playful shove.

After a few steps, Malcolm cast Trip a sly sideways glance. "In case you ever needed any help for tonight's movie, a very suitable title just popped into mind," he suggested in a subtle voice.

"I bet," Trip said as he hobbled along. "If ya mean Jurassic Park, no thanks. Not tonight."

"Nah! Too obvious." Malcolm licked his lips. "How about… The Cat from Outer Space?"

Trip chuckled. "That's a good one."

Malcolm grabbed Trip's arm and silently put it around his shoulder, for the man had begun to limp quite heavily. Another apt title came into his mind, and he broke into a wide grin. "Or even Stranger on the Third Floor."

Trip couldn't restrain a guffaw, echoed by a loud snort, and Malcolm turned quickly enough to see Hoshi's eyebrows momentarily crease in an expression of perplexed amusement. It was a lovely sight and he allowed himself to stare briefly.

The pretty Linguist cleared her throat. "Are we sure you're not making that up, Lieutenant?" she wondered, quickly recovering.

"Absolutely not. Cross my heart. It's a very old movie."

"Didn't know you were such an expert," Trip put in.

"There are many things you don't know about me, Commander," Malcolm said in a smoky voice.

Hoshi triggered the Mess Hall door open and passed through. "Well, I also have a good title, for the two of you." She turned and waited for them to join her on the other side, into the room.

"What do you mean, for the two of us?" Malcolm asked in a suspicious voice.

"For my friends and colleagues who can't find each other because they speak the same language and yet don't."

"And what would that be?" Trip and Malcolm asked together, as if to disprove Hoshi's words.

Hoshi shrugged nonchalantly. "Lost in Translation."