Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Not only that, but I think they escaped.

Author's note: Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you for the reviews. I feel so loved. :)

We lose Travis on B-deck, somehow he just disappears. Seeing this, Commander Tucker makes a bolt for his quarters – we nearly get hammered once or twice, but we're both pretty quick – and pulls me inside.

"Now is hardly the time, sir." Especially since I can see him taking his uniform off.

He holds a finger up to his lips and mouths the words you too.

"Sir." I know it seems crazy for me to protest, but a girl likes a little romance first.

He rolls his eyes again, and mouths another couple of words. Bugs. Trackers.

Oh. Right. Following his lead, I strip down to my underwear. He tosses me a shirt that would do on its own and a pair of pants. He pulls out a belt, and hands it to me with a shrug.

Oh well, it's better than nothing. I snug the belt tight enough to keep the shorts from falling off and roll up the cuffs several times so I don't trip on them. Then, I join him in fishing the radios out of our uniforms. He lays an ear against the door for a moment, then gestures me to come forward.

Out in the hall again, we head back for the turbolift. Only when we're inside, does he actually speak. "What, you don't think I actually trusted Travis, did you?"

"I did sir." It's a hard confession to make. Usually I'm the suspicious one and Commander Tucker tends to be a bit naïve.

"You did, as in you think I trusted him, or you did as in you trusted him?" He knows me well; he wasn't kidding about my fluency in double-speak.

"The latter, sir. It was possible, wasn't it?"

The commander nods. "Yes. But I work more closely with Travis than you do. He's usually a little more cautious than that, not quite so eager to pick sides. And the way he said he picked us… Before you sprayed him, did Lieutenant Reed look like he'd been hit with a bucket? Of anything? Especially in Armoury Red?"

"No, sir. He didn't." I smack my palm into my forehead. "How could I have missed that? Oh. And to think he knows…"

"What I want him to know. He thinks we're heading for the bridge, for the ready room." Commander Tucker leans against the wall, a smug little grin appearing on his face.

"Where are we going, sir?" All I know is that we're not headed towards A-Deck.

"Easy." The grin widens into something approaching manic glee. "The last place we should go. Cargo-Bay Three."

Partway there, his radio beeps. "Tucker, here."

"Sir, I'm picking up serious enemy action down corridor three. Armoury and Science, sir. You might want to consider another route."

"Right. Thanks, Simpson" He looks at me. "Might as well make it interesting." He swings us over to E-Deck, and we make a run for the mess hall.

"Why here, sir?"

"I'm hungry, Hess. I don't do well on low blood sugar." No, he doesn't. You think he's nasty when he doesn't sleep? Try being around him unfed.

The mess hall seems quiet, which would be disturbing except no one wants to risk the wrath of Chef. You don't want to think about where he'd consider a knife or a rolling pin. Nor the fact that you're liable to be on bologna sandwiches for the rest of the mission.

We creep in, taking special care to check under the tables and in the corners. There's lots of places to hide in the mess hall, and the fact that it's deserted only makes it eerier.

The commander's about to open the door to one of the cold cases when I grab his arm. "Sir." A small wire runs off the door, almost invisible to the naked eye.

"Thanks." He looks around, then picks up a chair and uses one of the legs to open the door while keeping his distance.

A fine red spray shoots out, right where he would have been standing. "Booby traps. And on the sandwiches too. Isn't that against the Articles of War?"

"I don't think the Geneva Convention covered foodstuffs, sir. Hospitals, maybe…"

He grabs my arm. "Hess, you're a genius." At least this time I know where we're going.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"What in the world is going on out there?" Doctor Phlox looks the two of us up and down, like he's never seen us before. This cannot be true, because the only place Commander Tucker and I have logged more time in than Engineering is the Sickbay.

"A little tactical exercise." The commander bluffs like a pro, acting like it's nothing. He leans against one of the bio-beds then pulls out his sandwich and begins munching. When he realises Phlox is still staring at him, he holds out the other half. "Sorry. Hungry?"

"No, it just seems like this is an odd place for you to come and have lunch. Is this a human custom I'm unacquainted with?"

"Maybe. Hospitals are supposed to be non-combatant areas, and I'm desperately in need of something to eat." Seeing as there's currently a Dirk Gently-type[1] contest[2] running to see who opens our (illicit) Engineering refrigerator, there was nothing he could snack on earlier.

"I see." The doctor shakes his head, but he's smiling. "And your uniforms?"

"Well," It's a little difficult to understand the commander, as he has his mouth full. "We'd probably be shot as spies, if we got caught like this, but we're in the middle of foiling some enemy intelligence."

"Ah, I see." The great thing about Phlox is that sometimes he understands that it's better not to try and understand. If he thinks we're role-playing, neither one of us is going to disabuse him.

The commander finishes his sandwich and wipes his hands off on his shirt. He looks up, out windows on the doors. "Howy sfit."

"You want to swallow first, sir, then try it again?"

Instead he merely points. Several armoury personnel have grouped around the door, waiting for us. Finally he swallows, clearing his mouth for speech. "How the hell did they find us?"

"I thought you said hospitals were non-combat zones." Luckily for us, Dr. Phlox is keeping one finger on the door lock, preventing them from getting in.

"Yeah, but we're not sure whether or not Malcolm's going with it. We're going to have to get out of here." He grabs my arm again, pulling me along. "Thanks, Doc, we'll use the back way. Believe me, we appreciate this." Then it's up the access ladder, and into the sickbay storage area. From there, we slip into the air-vents; I'm having an easier go of it than the commander.

"I think I'm losing half my skin here, Hess." Which is fine for him, but my main problem is that he's blocking my progress.

Having to squirm to get through the small space is making it difficult to talk. "Well. Unfortunately, sir. I'm the one dealing with. Your feet." Believe me, I'd rather have half my skin scraped off. "I think I know how they tracked us, they just followed the stench." He'd glare at me if he could get his head around, which fortunately he can't. "What is it with your obsession with tunnels, anyway."

"It's not my fault, Hess. You're the one who insisted on that movie, said it was so great."

The Great Escape. Actually it is a great movie, but hardly inspirational for our current circumstances. "Most of them died sir. I hope you're planning to make us one of the few exceptions."

"I'm tryin' Hess, believe me, I'm tryin'." I do believe him, especially since he's putting himself through hell. He takes a few random turns (at least I think they're random) before getting us to a vent. Nicely, the vent is right next to a turbolift, so maybe the turns weren't so random after all.

He pops the vent, only to find he has to go out head-first. "Oh, shit."

I close my eyes, not wanting to think about it. A few thumps signal the fact that he's landed, I just hope that nothing important got snapped.

"Okay. I'll catch you."

I move forward, poke my head down. "Catch me, you better." I slowly work my way out until I can bend at the waist. He reaches up, grabs me under the armpits and backs away. It's a good thing I had three brothers, it's taught me how to fall when they do stupid things like that, and forget that you actually might weigh something.

Once we pick ourselves up off the floor, the commander tries the turbolift. "Shit. Someone's commandeered it."

"We could…"

"No." He shoots down my idea before I can even get it out. I was going to suggest we use the ladder, but apparently that's not a viable solution. Curious, and more so, but I'm not about to push it.

Instead he has me stand watch while he pulls off the panel and makes a few adjustments. Never commandeer anything away from an engineer if the electronics are still attached. When the lift reaches our floor, we step back and prepare to fire.

There's no one inside, and he's about to step in when… "Wait." My brother taught me a neat trick, once, and I've always wanted to try it.

I get the commander to give me a boost, and sweep together some dust from inside the air-vent.[3] Carefully, I carry it back to the lift and blow it off my hands and through the door.

Immediately the doorway lights up in a criss-crossing of red, and green. "Talk about paranoid, I think they booby-trapped each other.

"Mnm-hmn." Commander Tucker pulls something else from his pocket, a simple pulse generator. "But somehow I doubt they're using heavily shielded sensors, do you?"

"Give it a shot sir." It can't hurt, and just maybe.

"Turn your radio off, first." He shuts his down, I do the same.

There's no sound, but a second shot of dust reveals no beams. "Looking good, sir."

Now it's just a short hop down to E-deck, and we're at Cargo-Bay 3.

[1] Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul by Douglas Adams. Definitely recommend it. LMFAO, and I'm not even British.

[2] I've got Rostov in the side-pool; the Commander's going with Bryson.

[3] The bulk of what we call "dust" is actually human skin cells and such. No matter how clean you try and keep things, if there are humans around, dust will accumulate. And nobody cleans inside those vents.