Chapter 5 No Luck, No Answers
Captain Jonathon Archer returned to his quarters at 0500 hours. What's the point, he thought. Forgoing the bed, he walked towards his desk, turning towards the soft whine.
"Porthos! Probably hungry, aren't you boy?"
He quickly filled the dishes and set Porthos's food near his boxy tan bed. A dog's life couldn't get much easier, Archer mused, finding himself wishing that for one day he could switch places. One day, where the only responsibility was to sleep and eat.
He dropped himself into his chair, fatigue sapping him of the ability to maintain decent posture. Punching a button on the display, not much longer, he told himself.
"Captain's log..."
Trip strode through the halls on D deck, heading towards the turbolift. After working through the night he felt the systems were stable, allowing him to escape for a quick breakfast.
"You look like hell, Commander." Reed said, coming alongside Trip.
Trip turned, startled, "Malcolm." He greeted, taking in the armory officer's appearance. He didn't look any better than Trip felt. "You're one to talk. Been up all night?"
"Despite my best efforts otherwise, yes. We've scanned the entire ship and haven't found a thing." Reed was disgusted. He was the ships tactical officer and he couldn't manage to find one intruder.
"Don't let it get to you Loo-tenant." Tucker drawled, similar to the earlier days, evoking a grin from Reed.
Tucker changed topics fluidly, "So...any symptoms of venissian flu?"
Reed snorted, "Not likely, we've only been back for less than a day. Didn't Phlox say the incubation period was 48-72 hours?"
"I know...but aren't you jumping at every little ache or sneeze? I'm checking over my bodily functions as much as the ships. Every little twinge makes me panic. I'm turning into a hypochondriac waiting for this damn bug to hit." Tucker said.
"I suppose I've been to focused on finding the intruder to think about it. Who knows, maybe you won't catch it?" Reed replied.
Their conversation interrupted by the arrival of the lift, depositing a pale crewman, who proceeded to shuffle past the two gaping officers.
Trip reached out a hand to grab the crewman, but aborted the maneuver as he thought better about contact, opting instead to call out, "Crewman, are you all right?"
The crewman jerked his head in acknowledgement, but then gurgled and covered his mouth with both hands, hunching near the floor. Reed and Tucker backed up. The crewman vomited copiously, falling against the bulkhead when the contents of his stomach had been purged.
Tucker reached for the nearest comm. panel, "Doc, I think you've got another patient."
Archer had given up on sleeping. After finishing his log update he had sat, staring at the screen. He had tried to read Phlox's recent report. After reading the same line ten times he decided it wasn't going to happen. Coffee. That's what he needed...a large, steaming, cup of coffee.
He headed to the mess, conveniently located near his quarters on E deck. Being the Captain did come with some privileges. Not nearly enough, he thought, not today. He was pleasantly surprised to see Trip and Malcolm nursing their own cups. We must all be in the same shape.
"Commander, Lieutenant...care to join me?" He enquired, grabbing a cup and placing it in the resequencer.
"That depends Captain, do you have anything better than this nutripack?" Trip nudged the offending item with his fork.
"Nutripacks...oh no. Chef's sick?" Archer asked, crestfallen. No scrambled eggs.
Reed nodded, "As are his assistants. It makes sense Sir, his position dictates contact with the crew. He was one of the first to fall."
Archer clapped his hands, attempting to put a positive spin on what was turning into a nightmare of a day, "Nutripacks it is, but the company will be worth it!"
The three sat around the table in the Captain's mess. Archer didn't fail to notice that Trip had bags under his eyes that looked as if he had gone three rounds with a master boxer, and Reed's normally crisp appearance was rumpled.
"How's engineering, Trip?" Archer decided to start with Tucker. He figured Malcolm hadn't found their guest and he knew the frustration that would be causing his officer.
"Good Sir, systems have quieted down. We haven't located the cause for the malfunctions but I'm sure we will eventually." Trip explained, twirling his fork through something resembling...he didn't know what it resembled.
Archer grimaced, "See that you do. I need to know what happened." He sipped his coffee. "Malcolm?"
"Sorry Sir, our scans failed to find the intruder. We did a systematic search, deck by deck. If it was here, it should've shown something. I gave the Sub-Commander the readings. If there was an anomaly that we didn't see, she should find it." Reed reported. He offered the last bit of information to give the Captain a boost. Malcolm could sense the Captain's spirits were foundering.
Archer nodded, taking another drink, "There does seem to be some good in all of this...mess."
"What's that Sir?" Reed asked, looking up from his meal.
"This being, whatever it is, doesn't appear to have malevolent intentions toward the crew. We've received no reports or indications that it's violent." Archer answered.
Trip agreed, "Cap'n, on the planet when we were being questioned about this thing's whereabouts, they never said why they wanted it so badly."
"As I recall Trip, they weren't exactly eager to answer any of our questions." Archer replied.
"True...but if they wanted our cooperation, if it were dangerous, that would've been a way to get us to listen." Trip mentioned.
"Listen, but not necessarily cooperate. Commander, they were interrogating us." Reed pointed out.
"Still..." Tucker trailed off, cocking his head to the side, "Do you hear that?"
Archer swiveled his head, a hissing sound was becoming louder, coming from the rear of the room.
"Sir, I think we should..." Reed began.
"What the..." Archer started at the same time.
"Tucker to T'Pol!" Trip hollered into the comm.
The three figures slumped to the floor as the hissing continued in the background.
Captain Jonathon Archer returned to his quarters at 0500 hours. What's the point, he thought. Forgoing the bed, he walked towards his desk, turning towards the soft whine.
"Porthos! Probably hungry, aren't you boy?"
He quickly filled the dishes and set Porthos's food near his boxy tan bed. A dog's life couldn't get much easier, Archer mused, finding himself wishing that for one day he could switch places. One day, where the only responsibility was to sleep and eat.
He dropped himself into his chair, fatigue sapping him of the ability to maintain decent posture. Punching a button on the display, not much longer, he told himself.
"Captain's log..."
Trip strode through the halls on D deck, heading towards the turbolift. After working through the night he felt the systems were stable, allowing him to escape for a quick breakfast.
"You look like hell, Commander." Reed said, coming alongside Trip.
Trip turned, startled, "Malcolm." He greeted, taking in the armory officer's appearance. He didn't look any better than Trip felt. "You're one to talk. Been up all night?"
"Despite my best efforts otherwise, yes. We've scanned the entire ship and haven't found a thing." Reed was disgusted. He was the ships tactical officer and he couldn't manage to find one intruder.
"Don't let it get to you Loo-tenant." Tucker drawled, similar to the earlier days, evoking a grin from Reed.
Tucker changed topics fluidly, "So...any symptoms of venissian flu?"
Reed snorted, "Not likely, we've only been back for less than a day. Didn't Phlox say the incubation period was 48-72 hours?"
"I know...but aren't you jumping at every little ache or sneeze? I'm checking over my bodily functions as much as the ships. Every little twinge makes me panic. I'm turning into a hypochondriac waiting for this damn bug to hit." Tucker said.
"I suppose I've been to focused on finding the intruder to think about it. Who knows, maybe you won't catch it?" Reed replied.
Their conversation interrupted by the arrival of the lift, depositing a pale crewman, who proceeded to shuffle past the two gaping officers.
Trip reached out a hand to grab the crewman, but aborted the maneuver as he thought better about contact, opting instead to call out, "Crewman, are you all right?"
The crewman jerked his head in acknowledgement, but then gurgled and covered his mouth with both hands, hunching near the floor. Reed and Tucker backed up. The crewman vomited copiously, falling against the bulkhead when the contents of his stomach had been purged.
Tucker reached for the nearest comm. panel, "Doc, I think you've got another patient."
Archer had given up on sleeping. After finishing his log update he had sat, staring at the screen. He had tried to read Phlox's recent report. After reading the same line ten times he decided it wasn't going to happen. Coffee. That's what he needed...a large, steaming, cup of coffee.
He headed to the mess, conveniently located near his quarters on E deck. Being the Captain did come with some privileges. Not nearly enough, he thought, not today. He was pleasantly surprised to see Trip and Malcolm nursing their own cups. We must all be in the same shape.
"Commander, Lieutenant...care to join me?" He enquired, grabbing a cup and placing it in the resequencer.
"That depends Captain, do you have anything better than this nutripack?" Trip nudged the offending item with his fork.
"Nutripacks...oh no. Chef's sick?" Archer asked, crestfallen. No scrambled eggs.
Reed nodded, "As are his assistants. It makes sense Sir, his position dictates contact with the crew. He was one of the first to fall."
Archer clapped his hands, attempting to put a positive spin on what was turning into a nightmare of a day, "Nutripacks it is, but the company will be worth it!"
The three sat around the table in the Captain's mess. Archer didn't fail to notice that Trip had bags under his eyes that looked as if he had gone three rounds with a master boxer, and Reed's normally crisp appearance was rumpled.
"How's engineering, Trip?" Archer decided to start with Tucker. He figured Malcolm hadn't found their guest and he knew the frustration that would be causing his officer.
"Good Sir, systems have quieted down. We haven't located the cause for the malfunctions but I'm sure we will eventually." Trip explained, twirling his fork through something resembling...he didn't know what it resembled.
Archer grimaced, "See that you do. I need to know what happened." He sipped his coffee. "Malcolm?"
"Sorry Sir, our scans failed to find the intruder. We did a systematic search, deck by deck. If it was here, it should've shown something. I gave the Sub-Commander the readings. If there was an anomaly that we didn't see, she should find it." Reed reported. He offered the last bit of information to give the Captain a boost. Malcolm could sense the Captain's spirits were foundering.
Archer nodded, taking another drink, "There does seem to be some good in all of this...mess."
"What's that Sir?" Reed asked, looking up from his meal.
"This being, whatever it is, doesn't appear to have malevolent intentions toward the crew. We've received no reports or indications that it's violent." Archer answered.
Trip agreed, "Cap'n, on the planet when we were being questioned about this thing's whereabouts, they never said why they wanted it so badly."
"As I recall Trip, they weren't exactly eager to answer any of our questions." Archer replied.
"True...but if they wanted our cooperation, if it were dangerous, that would've been a way to get us to listen." Trip mentioned.
"Listen, but not necessarily cooperate. Commander, they were interrogating us." Reed pointed out.
"Still..." Tucker trailed off, cocking his head to the side, "Do you hear that?"
Archer swiveled his head, a hissing sound was becoming louder, coming from the rear of the room.
"Sir, I think we should..." Reed began.
"What the..." Archer started at the same time.
"Tucker to T'Pol!" Trip hollered into the comm.
The three figures slumped to the floor as the hissing continued in the background.