Chapter Ten

"Malcolm, could ya come down to cargo bay two? We found some debris and I'd like your input," Trip's disembodied voice reverberated throughout the armory.

"I'm on my way, Commander," Malcolm announced trying to stifle a yawn.

"Can I come?" Hoshi asked as she twirled on the stool bored stiff. She asked to come to work with him today, not wanting to sit around and watch movies all day long.

He readily agreed stating it would be best if he monitored what she ate, that way he wouldn't get an unexpected surprise again, still disbelieving that all she had to eat since breakfast the previous day was two pieces of cake and a slice of pie.

Guilt niggled at him for forgetting her during lunchtime. He often skipped lunch and ate a large dinner. He spoke to Phlox regarding her frequent vomiting, earning a wide grin from the Denobulan physician.

"It is quite common, I assure you. Remember she was basically starving when we found her. It is going to take some time for her body to adjust to proper nutrition and the wide variety we have to select from. Might I suggest some broths that way her stomach is eased into the process?"

By the time Malcolm got back to his quarters, Hoshi was fast asleep, snoring softly.

"If you want to come along, that's fine by me," Malcolm stated dryly.

Hoshi jumped off the stool and was on his heels out the door. The journey to cargo bay two was made in silence, just like meals were eaten in silence, and time in the cabin was spent in silence.

Malcolm opened the doors and motioned for her to walk through first.

Trip was bent over a piece of debris with a perplexed look on his face, but his face lit up at the sight of Hoshi. "Hiya, darlin'? How's Malcolm treatin' ya? Still interrogatin' ya?"

Hoshi looked to the floor, wishing for a hole to fall through. Trip was so open while Lieutenant Reed was closed.

"Malcolm, could you take a look at the debris. We were trying to figure out what it was and what happened," Trip stated as he motioned to the various pieces around the room.

The room was scattered with debris, each piece varying in texture and color, every piece inscribed with the same symbols.

"The UT won't lock onto the symbols. Sometimes that thing is more trouble than it's worth. Actually, it ain't worth much. Look at all the failed first contacts we've had because the matrix couldn't adapt quick enough. We're lucky we got out of Klingon territory with most of our hull plating intact." Trip continued to complain about the UT as Hoshi looked at the symbols, paying little attention to the engineer and little attention to Lieutenant Reed.

The light around the symbols brightened and the symbols begin to move and reshape. The written language was similar to one she had come across before, yet couldn't quite put her finger on. It reminded her of the Vulcan language. In her mind the symbols contorted again, forming another language.

Malcolm stared at her, as she was practically swaying on her feet. Trip jumped down off the scaffolding, seeing Hoshi sway as well. "Hoshi?"

She whispered one word. "Mine."

Trip didn't comprehend at all, thinking she was calling the junk hers.

Malcolm perked up, watching her stare at the debris.

"The explosive casing is over there," she pointed to a small cylinder that was in the corner of the cargo bay.

"Trip, I don't know how she knows, but I believe her. Evacuate the cargo bay. We need to decompress the cargo bay and get rid of this stuff," Malcolm stared at Hoshi who was still staring at the debris. "Is there anything else?" The hair on the back of his neck was up and his gut was screaming to trust her.

"There's another cylinder over there," she pointed into the huge hunk that Trip had been tinkering with.

"Can you tell if the explosives are active?" Malcolm whispered, backing her and himself out of the cargo bay.

"No," whispered Hoshi.

With the hatch firmly attached, the warning lights leading up to decompression flashed and the alarms sounded.

They watched as the debris was violently blown into space and watched in horror as a blinding light encased their vision. The ship rocked violently, emergency bulkheads deploying. Malcolm held on to Hoshi as both were brutally forced against one of the bulkheads, sinking to the floor.

It was dark for a split second before auxiliary power kicked in -- alarms deafening him. Smoke blinded and choked him. He could feel Hoshi's lax form in his arms and knew something was terribly wrong. He felt her, ascertaining no damage to her torso or neck. When he got to her head, he could feel the blood.

Mercifully, the smoke began to clear and he was able to visually assess Hoshi's injury. She had a gash on her forehead, one that was bleeding profusely. He tore at her clothing, which was already saturated in blood. He had to get her to sick bay, but his leg was stuck. He was pinned.

"Malcolm, ya in here?" came the annoyingly familiar twang.

"We're in here," he coughed. "Hurry! Hoshi needs medical attention!"

Trip materialized with other personnel like a holy vision. The look on his face spoke volumes to Malcolm. "We need a back board over here, now!"

Trip knelt down beside the couple and applied pressure to her head wound. "Hurry, God Dammit!"

A flurry of activity surrounded them and Malcolm's ears started ringing. Soon, a peaceful oblivion surrounded him.