Thank you to all the people who have reviewed; a mad shout-out to zealousgirl, who has reviewed every chapter of both stories I've written! They are much appreciated. I have absolutely no idea how much longer this story will be. I know where I'm going but how long it takes to get there is a complete mystery. So bear with me.
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FRANKENSTEIN'S DAUGHTER
"And now, with the world before me, whither should I bend my steps? I
resolved to fly far from the scene of my misfortunes; but to me, hated and
despised, every country must be equally horrible."
~Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
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Two crewman, phase pistols in hand, watched nervously as Malcolm and Hoshi strode up to them. The lieutenant, hand on the ensign's shoulder, wavered off-balance slightly as he let go and glared at the decon room.
"She locked herself in there," said one crewman; Malcolm suddenly noticed a third, sitting against the wall with a hand to her copiously bleeding and quite obviously broken nose. The one who had spoken also sported an angry lump growing on his cheek. "She used a security code! None of us even have clearance to use that level code!"
"We left her in there, though, until you or the captain got here," said the third (uninjured) crewman. "There's no way out of decon except this door and the one into the shuttlebay, and the bay's depressurized right now because Ensign Mayweather and a team are out with one of the shuttles."
"That's quite all right, Johnson, Yurich," said Reed absently. He went over to the keypad, the cover hanging ajar, and tapped in the master security override. The door hissed but did not open; Malcolm turned to Hoshi.
"Get the doctor down here," he ordered. "I'm going to see if I can get her to calm down. I think she's just frightened now."
"Are you sure, Lieutenant?" Hoshi asked, pointing to his forehead. Malcolm felt the sticky blood on his forehead. He didn't tell her that it was pounding unmercifully; he wouldn't, of course, because right now he had other things to worry about.
"I'll be fine, Ensign," he replied and tapped in a command so the door would open slowly. He stood in front of it and slid in, blinking in the blue glow of decon as the door slid shut behind him.
Where was Amata? "Amata," he called softly. The lights made it hard to see anything; even so, it was one room. There weren't that many places to hide. Suddenly he caught a glint of golden cat's eyes from under the low bench in the middle of the room, and immediately tumbled to the ground as the frightened woman leapt at him and caught him around the waist.
He struggled wildly, and it took him a minute to realize that her onslaught was an embrace and not a killing swoop. Bloody killing machine, ha, he thought as she shook in his arms. She's as frightened as a kitten!
"Amata? I understand now," he said. "I know what you mean...he made you, I know, the captain told me. It's all right, everything's fine."
"I know how to tell you now," replied Amata, her face still hidden, and she held her hand to his cheek. "I can tell you in a different way, Malcolm."
His mind tugged and he stood stockstill as images poured into his head. A ship, consoles...beings everywhere, dead alive screaming silent whole and pieces... Him at the forefront, a diminutive little man who looked for all the world like a miniature Einstein except that his skin was a vivid green. Him him him him...cold and ice and darkness of space... Malcolm cried out as he felt the hate radiating from her mind and clenched his fists in pain.
The touch receded, and Amata gasped. The lieutenant, coming back to himself, realized he had dropped to his knees and was pressed against the wall. "Did I hurt you?" wailed Amata. She rose above him, gasping in little wailing breaths. Malcolm shook his head and winced at the pain as she touched the blood on his forehead. She reared back above him, staring in shock with hands outstretched.
"It's all right," he started to say, and at that precise moment the door hissed open all the way and a crisp red phase bolt burst into being from the tip of the gun clenched in the captain's hand. Amata toppled to the ground, unconscious.
"Are you injured, Mr. Reed?" asked the doctor, just behind him.
"That was a hell of a stupid thing to do, Malcolm," said the captain, holstering the phase pistol. "Take her to the brig." Johnson and Yurich scurried in, looking with concern at their still-kneeling superior, and began to drag the unconscious woman out of decon.
"What were you thinking?" growled Archer. Reed slumped back onto the floor and let Phlox get at the cut on his forehead.
"I was calming her down, sir," he protested, but the angry captain only shook his head. "She was upset, sir!"
"I realize you have gotten attached to our visitor, Malcolm, but when she goes on an angry rampage through the ship you don't go it alone!"
Reed bit back an angry retort... "She might not have, if I'd just understood her the first time..." and said instead, "I'm sorry, sir. I felt she would respond to a familiar face."
"Did she do that to you?" asked Archer.
"Yes, but-"
"You heard what the Inspector said!" cried the captain. No doubt about it, he was really steamed. "Making machines of war!! Killing machines!! And you try to take on out on your own? I know you have a penchant for getting into sticky situations, Lieutenant, but this is ridiculous."
"Sir!" bellowed Reed angrily. "She was frightened! I was trying to calm her down. I don't know what set her off in the first place, but she wasn't dangerous any longer. I'd nearly succeeded and you burst in and SHOT her without warning!!" Insubordination, you idiot, his brain warned, but Malcolm did not care.
The captain, suddenly deadly calm, knelt next to the seething armoury officer and said, "When I opened that door, Lieutenant Reed, I saw a thing bred for killing with its hands outstretched over you, ready to deliver the last blow. And you, down on your knees, bleeding...What was I supposed to think, Malcolm?"
Reed opened his mouth to protest again, but saw Hoshi shake her head warningly behind the captain. He shut his lips. The captain continued. "Three crew members injured! Ensign Carrell's nose is broken and she has a severe concussion, for goodness' sakes."
Archer stood up and looked back and forth from Malcolm to Hoshi. "I will arrange to have the Mdaran police meet with us so we can give Amata to them. They have more experience dealing with these...creations...than we do."
"But sir!" said Hoshi.
"I mean it, Hoshi. I will not have a deadly killer aboard my ship! She will stay in the brig until we can contact the Mdarans and hand her over. Hoshi, I want you on the bridge, sending hails to any of their ships you can find. Now. Malcolm, do what the doctor tells you to and then you are confined to quarters for a day for insubordination." He stormed out of decon. Hoshi threw a sympathetic glance at Malcolm and meekly followed the angry captain. Phlox, who had remained remarkably silent throughout the entire exchange, taped a bandage in place over Malcolm's forehead.
"Perhaps she is better off this way," he said. "You would have had to let go at some point, Lieutenant."
"He didn't even let me try to explain," said Malcolm softly.
"I know. He was only concerned for your well-being, Lieutenant, and I must say it did look," -at Malcolm's glare he hastily amended himself- "it did look, from our perspective, as though she were attacking you, whether or not that was actually the case."
Malcolm shook his head, glaring at himself. "It most certainly was not the case," he said angrily, and stood up.
The doctor just looked at him, and then sighed. "Try to get some rest, Mr. Reed," he said wearily. "I will make it a medical order for you to visit your charge...after a suitable time has passed, Lieutenant. Go back to your quarters. I'll go check on Amata."
"Can you tell me how she is?" asked Malcolm. Dr. Phlox stood and patted the lieutenant on the shoulder.
"Of course," said Phlox with a smile. "Now go to your quarters!"
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Something has broken loose within her; she can feel it growing in her mind...no, it is not merely in her mind; it is her mind. Something expands and reaches out to the myriad of thoughts across this little hollow bug scooting through space, and all of them jumbled mixed up clumped together flicker in and out of her mind.
No pecan pie tonight, aw rats... Hey you, that was my seat... Time to run another course check... Yeah, he is kinda cute... One two three four, breathe, breathe, damn this treadmill!... Cheese? No cheese for you!
She touches briefly every mind on the ship. Here is Hoshi, here is the pilot, the captain, the doctor (back in his sickbay after checking to make sure she is all right), the cook; she even dares to peek into the Vulcan science officer's mind, and on the bridge T'Pol stiffens and jerks upwards.
"Subcommander?" asks Hoshi; Amata hears it through the ears of the young woman and sees it through her eyes. "Are you all right?"
T'Pol does not answer; she reaches out on her own, questing, and Amata feels the warning, Do not come in here again, even if T'Pol does not consciously form the thought.
"T'Pol?" asks Hoshi again.
"I am fine, Ensign," says T'Pol abruptly and returns to her work with the same cold demeanor as always, though inside she is far from all right.
She leaves Hoshi's mind and bounces along the hallways. Even from far away she can feel his anger; it frightens her, because it is much like His.
At length she finds Malcolm's thoughts, turbulent and restless even though he is asleep; in his mind a little scene plays out, and she does not know the word for it until she picks it out from his mind. Dream. How curious; she knows she does not experience dreams.
In his dream he sits in a dark room, frightened and small, only a little child once more. Again she thinks how curious; she knows that this was once her friend though he looks different now. Amata feels a twinge of regret for herself; she has always been as she is now, her whole short life.
Malcolm sees her, looks up, smiles; he is hardly as serious as a child as he is now. Dancing blue eyes capture her attention; her friend is quite loveable, and Amata smiles back.
He beckons and out of the room they run. Malcolm cannot keep pace with
her; though Amata has never been on a planet, she suspects that she would
be able to run for great distances without getting tired, and quickly too.
From another part of his mind she picks out the word moor and likes the
sound of it.
Much as she would like to participate longer in her friend's dream, it is not this which she has come for. Waving goodbye, she rushes away from the cavorting child.
In part of his memory, she finds specifications for the ship's security
measures...phase pistols, torpedos, phase cannons... and aha, here, the brig.
He knows every little nook and cranny of his beloved systems, every little
strength... and every weakness.
Amata opens her eyes, leaving Malcolm's mind, and inspects the walls around
her. There. In the corner. One tiny little panel.
The security guard is nodding off, not paying attention, as Amata begins to open it up. He does not notice when she rips out the wires.
But he does look up when the door to her cell slides open...
By then it is too late.
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"We're receiving a hail, Captain," said Hoshi softly from her station. "It's from a Mdaran ship nearby."
"Put them through," growled the captain. He'd stayed angry for the last four hours, ever since Amata's incident. Everyone on the bridge, except perhaps T'Pol, tiptoed around and only spoke when necessary.
"You are Captain Archer?" said the Mdaran gruffly as his image flickered onto the screen. "You have captured one of his war machines?"
"Yes, I am," replied the captain. "And we have."
The Mdaran cast an angry look off to the side and barked something in an unintelligible language.
"How is he overriding the UT?" Archer asked Hoshi from the corner of his mouth. She shook her head.
"He isn't. We never had to use the translator at all. They just did it themselves," she said.
"Captain!" said the Mdaran harshly. "We have detected the fugitive's ship only a short distance from your position. Please follow our directions and conceal yourself until we are certain the threat is contained. We will come for you at the following coordinates."
"We've received them, Captain," said T'Pol. "It appears to be a small moon approximately two lightyears from here." She consulted the readout on her screen. "We are to stay in the moon's shadow at all times."
Hoshi could tell that Archer was less than pleased about this. So could the Mdaran, apparently; he said curtly, "Please do not try to seek out the fugitive, Captain. I assure you, he has much more dangerous weapons than you, and your ship would instantly be destroyed. Go to the moon or you will be arrested as well."
Archer's jaw worked and he swallowed angrily. "We'll be waiting for your hail," he said finally.
"Please keep the creation under constant guard, Captain," said the Mdaran. "They are very dangerous." The screen went blank.
"Let's get underway, then," said Archer. He sat back down in his chair and did not say a word for the rest of the duty shift. By the time Hoshi was relieved by the third shift comm officer, she thought her head would burst from the silence. Archer did not even move when she said good night to him; his profile as he stared straight ahead was the last thing she saw before the lift doors closed.
She passed Malcolm's quarters on the way back to her own, and on an impulse knocked on the door. "Lieutenant, it's Hoshi," she called softly. "Are you all right?"
No answer; then, all of a sudden, the door whizzed open. A hand snatched the collar of her uniform and yanked her in. She caught a glimpse of Malcolm, stretched out pale and unconscious on the bed, before the hand swung her around and she found herself staring into a pair of golden cat's eyes. Another hand clamped over her mouth just before she was about to scream.
"Not a word," said Amata.
Behind them, the door hissed shut.
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Hey-ho, there's chapter four. Don't know when I'll be posting next, my schedule is rather erratic because Solo and Ensemble is coming up and I have a lot to do next week. Next Saturday at the latest, probably. Please review and tell me what you think. Also, I like constructive criticism, so please keep that in mind.