Title: Alone In Darkness
Authors: Sita/T'eyla
Rating: PG-13
AN: Thanks to Libra (being evil isn't a job, it's a way of live - you said so yourself :) ), Exploded Pen (and lil' ol' Malcolm is in for even more fun... harhar), Dacker Spaniel (thanks for saying that, we were afraid they'd become a little too evil), Luna (glad you felt it was realistic, that's a very nice compliment to make :) ), scully (hm, yes, psycho mind games it'll be, you're right), Aeryn Lavantia ("rule the world of angst"... rulers of the world of angst... we do like the sound of that one ;) ), Akire (yeah, we know, we should update quicker to make up for these ANs you always have to read first :) ), KaliedescopeCat (wait and see... suspense, suspense), WhtevrHpnd2Mary (no one feels sorry for Trip... even only half of this writing team does... poor guy, gnahaha ;) ), Silvia (character torture? What's that? We don't know what you're talking about... just kidding ;) ), Settiai (let's hope it will), Maraschino (hmm... well, let's just say poor Trip and Malcolm :) ), CordeliaBlack (we don't mind long reviews at all, and that was a very fitting comparison!), Gabi2305 (Geburtstag gut überstanden? Danke für den Review :) ) and snowtear (hm... wir versuchen's ;) ) for reviewing. And now... finally... Chapter 3!
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Chapter 3
Slamming the padd with the scan results down on his desk, Archer got up and began to pace. This was more than frustrating, and after reading through a dozen of these reports Archer couldn't see anything paradise-like or even beautiful about that planet anymore. Over the last twenty-four hours they'd run about a thousand scans of Eden's surface and the only bio signs they'd found had been minor life forms and insects, but certainly no humans. It was as if Trip and Malcolm had never gone down to that planet at all, as if they'd never even existed. Archer had even taken a shuttle down to the surface to go and look for them, taking T'Pol with him after she'd insisted that he needed the assistance of his science officer and that she volunteered for this mission despite the risks. But even their five hours of searching had accomplished nothing. Trip and Malcolm had disappeared without a trace, and there was no possibility to find out where they were.
Except that Archer knew. Ever since he'd seen that strange blue light between the trees, had heard that soft humming tone, he knew that this must have something to do with what had happened on V'nera. It was more of a hunch than anything rationally provable, but Archer was sure of it all the same. Why else should it be only Trip and Malcolm who'd disappeared, and not he himself as well? He'd been on that planet, too. If their disappearance had been caused by something of natural origin, it seemed like a very great coincidence that this phenomenon should have occurred just during the few minutes he'd been away. But if it hadn't been some natural phenomenon... well, in that case, Trip and Malcolm's disappearance had been caused by sentient beings. And based on that assumption the inference to those mysterious strangers on V'nera was easily made. After all, they seemed to be experts when it came to making people vanish into thin air.
After Enterprise's scanners had completely failed to pick up any signs of these strangers on V'nera's surface, Archer had decided that they must have some highly developed means of technology that allowed them to cloak themselves so well that they weren't detectable by any scans, however thoroughly they might be conducted. And now, his theory of a highly developed species had been reinforced. If they really were the ones responsible for the disappearance of Trip and Malcolm, they had to be in the possession of technology that made it possible to transport a person over a distance of several light years, for in the last three months, Enterprise had put a considerable distance between herself and V'nera. Not too enormous a distance - not even a week's journey at maximum warp - but certainly more than the range of any transporter Archer had ever heard of. Such technological means indicated that whoever used them must be highly advanced, and probably could also keep any scanners from picking them up if there was need.
The longer Archer thought about it, the more plausible it seemed that Trip and Malcolm had indeed been recaptured by these mysterious people on V'nera. That knowledge, however, did nothing to ease the Captain's mind.
Sighing, Archer sat back down on his chair, burying his face in his hands. It seemed so wrong, sitting here and reading these reports while Trip and Malcolm might just as well be back in the hands of those people, going through the same ordeal they'd suffered last time, or worse.
When all of a sudden the door buzzer went off, Archer startled. "Come," he called, turning around in his seat. The door slid aside and T'Pol entered the ready room.
"Captain," she said in a way of greeting, and Archer got up.
"Anything new?" he asked, a feeling of nervousness building in his stomach as he saw her expressionless but still grave features.
"Captain, we need to change course immediately. I have all reason to assume that Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed were abducted by the same people that held them captive three months ago."
Archer stared at her for a moment. "What makes you think so?"
She clasped her hands behind her back. "I re-checked the scans I ran of the surface while you, Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed were on the planet, and I have discovered certain discrepancies to the results of our recent scans. At the exact time the Commander and the Lieutenant disappeared, my instruments picked up some unusual fluctuations. As I analyzed them more thoroughly I discovered that they are a perfect match to the fluctuations I scanned on V'nera's surface."
Archer frowned. "You didn't tell me about any unusual fluctuations on V'nera," he said, and T'Pol raised an eyebrow.
"At the time, I assumed these fluctuations to be of natural origin. Now, however, I have come to the conclusion that the interferences are being caused by the strangers' technology."
Biting back a sharp comment that she should have informed him about the fluctuations on V'nera right away - there was neither time nor need for that now - Archer took a quick step over to the comm unit.
"Archer to Mayweather. Set a course to V'nera, maximum warp."
"Aye sir." It sounded more like a question than like an acknowledgement of his order, but Archer had no intention of answering at the moment. Cutting the connection, he turned around to T'Pol.
"What's our ETA?"
"Four to five days, Captain." T'Pol didn't say anything else, but Archer could see concern and worry evident on her controlled Vulcan features. Letting out a deep breath, Archer sat back down on his chair. The worst part of this was not being able to do anything.
-###-
Malcolm couldn't keep his hands still. Ever since the injection they'd given him had started to take effect, his hands had been shaking uncontrollably, and his blood seemed to be boiling, searing through his veins like fire. Still, Malcolm was glad it was only physical pain this time, that they hadn't given him these drugs that made him hear things, see things that weren't there, that made the real world disappear and took him straight to hell.
Leaning against the wall, he relished the feeling of the cold concrete against his hot skin. He didn't know why they hadn't taken him back to the other cell or why they'd separated him from Trip. He didn't want to know. If he'd allowed himself to think about that, he would have come to the conclusion that they had indeed taken Trip, and were now indeed performing the tests on him. And that it was his, Reed's fault. The thought was so terrible that Malcolm simply couldn't allow it to cross his mind, so he just sat there, shaking, trying to keep from thinking and from time to time raising a hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He'd lost track of how long he'd been here; it might have been just a few hours, it might have been days. Ever since they'd brought him here after that terrible interrogation, he'd seen no one, except for that one time when the assistant had entered the cell and had given him the injection that was now making his body shake and tremble as if he were running a high fever.
Malcolm closed his eyes. He felt such a coward for what he'd done, so low and dirty when he thought of how he'd betrayed Trip without a minute's hesitation. Back in that interrogation room he hadn't felt himself, it had seemed as if it were another person who shrank back in terror when the assistant came closer, who didn't offer the slightest resistance, and who had even wet his pants like a goddamn coward. And he couldn't even get angry with himself for the way he'd acted. He knew if they were to come to his cell now and take him back to that room, he would do the same thing again. His fear of these people and what they might do to him was simply too great for him to control. He could not go through these tests again. It was the prevailing thought in his mind, drowning out everything else, and Malcolm clung to it in fierce desperation, telling himself over and over that it would not happen again. Could not happen again. He wouldn't do it.
Lowering himself onto the cold floor of the cell, Malcolm curled up in a fetal position and buried his face in the crook of his arm. The shaking hadn't subsided; if anything it had gotten worse, and the heat that made his blood burn had increased to an almost unbearable level. Closing his eyes, Malcolm tried to push everything away and empty his mind of all thoughts. He wished he could go to sleep, escape this hell if only for a short time, but that strange wired feeling made it impossible to calm down enough to go to sleep. Remembering the strange questions the assistant had asked him during the interrogation, he realized that maybe keeping him awake was what they were aiming at. He'd told them sleep was essential to his species, and of course they wanted to know how essential.
For a long time, Malcolm simply lay there, trembling and sweating, trying to think of nothing. If he'd had any emotion left in him, he might have been afraid for Trip, afraid that they would come back, but as it was, he only felt an all-embracing numbness take hold of him as he stared blankly into the red darkness behind his closed eyelids.
-###-
The door slid open. Scrambling to his feet, Trip saw one of the assistants standing in the doorframe, holding Malcolm's arm in a firm grip. The Lieutenant looked a little worse for wear - pale, one of his eyes swollen shut - but otherwise there were no visible signs of any mistreatment. After several hours of sitting alone his cell, his mind coming up with horrible scenes of what Malcolm might be going through at the moment, Trip felt a wave of relief wash over him when he saw his friend relatively unhurt, and he actually felt a smile spreading on his face.
"Malcolm!"
The assistant pushed Reed into the room, and Trip caught him by the arm.
"Are you okay?"
Straightening up, Malcolm answered his worried question with a short reassuring smile.
"I'm fine, Trip."
Trip could see that this wasn't quite the truth; the Lieutenant's voice had a strangely hollow undertone to it, as if he were feigning that calm and controlled countenance to hide... what?
"What did they do to you?"
Trip still hadn't let go of Malcolm's arm, and Reed pulled free, gently, but leaving no doubt about the fact that he didn't want to be touched.
"Nothing. I'm okay."
Trip stared at him for a moment. The last time he'd seen Malcolm, Reed had been all but kicking and screaming, terrified at the prospect of being dragged away to that interrogation room once again, and now he was acting as if none of that had ever happened. As if he'd never felt anything but slight annoyance at the fact that they were back in their own personal hell.
Trip had just opened his mouth when Malcolm suddenly put a hand on his arm, guiding him over to a corner of the cell. The Lieutenant's face was firmly set, and he never looked at Trip, staring at the opposite wall with a concentrated expression on his face, as if he were reading something written there in very small letters.
"Malcolm, what-"
"Quiet," Reed hissed, and there was something in his voice that made Trip comply. They came to a halt in a corner of the room, and Malcolm took a quick look around before he turned back to Trip.
"I know how to get us out of here," he whispered, raising his eyes to look at Trip for the first time. Trip almost missed the meaning of the words, his chest contracting as he saw the Lieutenant's eyes. There was nothing unusual about them, except that the left one was slightly reddened and puffy; but the look in them was strange, like Trip had never seen it before. They weren't alive with fear, or excitement, or even anger like one would have expected in this situation. They looked hollow, sad, as if Malcolm wasn't really seeing any of this, listening to some inner voice that told him a terrible truth only he was able to comprehend.
"Malcolm..." Trip began hesitatingly, but Reed interrupted him once again, his eyebrows drawing together in an angry frown.
"Didn't you listen? I know how to get out of here! When they took me back, I saw some kind of hangar, a shuttle bay or something. One of them went in there-"
"The third one was with you?" Trip asked, feeling more and more confused. Reed pressed his lips together.
"Will you listen? He went in there, and I saw all kinds of vessels in there-"
"Vessels?"
"Yes, shuttles, flitters, or something like that. If we were able to steal one of them..."
"Malcolm!" Trip shook his head. "We can't get outta here. They'd notice the instant we left the cell. And there's the small problem of the door bein' locked..."
"Do you want to get away from here or not?" Reed's voice had taken on an irritated tone, sounding almost spiteful as he continued. "Or would you rather stay here, have them perform these wonderful tests on us again? Maybe they'll take you this time, ever thought of that?"
Reed's voice was nothing but a low hiss, but still, Trip recoiled as if he'd been slapped. He couldn't believe Malcolm would say these kind of things, hurl them right in his face, just like that.
"Malcolm, you know I-"
"Then listen," Reed interrupted curtly. "I know how to neutralize the lock. It's easy. The shuttle hangar is only a few corridors away. All we have to do is make a break for it-"
"Malcolm." Trip tried to keep his voice level and calm as he spoke. "I understand you want to get away from here. Hell, don't you think I want to get out of this jus' as much as you do? But this is madness. You can't know how to open the door, and even if you did, they'd catch us anyway. D'you know what they'll do to us-"
"Do to you, you mean." Reed's voice sounded cold, deadly calm as he spoke. "I see. You think if we just stay here, keep a low profile and wait, they'll leave you alone and take me-"
"What're you talkin' about, Malcolm?" Trip noticed he'd raised his voice as well, but he didn't care. Even though he knew Reed was probably not quite being himself, half-mad with shock and terror, these cruel accusations still hurt. "This is ridiculous. I'm only tryin' to keep you from killin' yourself-"
"Fine." Abruptly, Reed turned away. "Then I'll do it on my own. I'm not going to stay here and wait until they come and-"
He didn't finish his sentence, but walked over to the door, kneeling down beside it and busying himself with something at the doorframe. For a moment Trip only stood there, staring at him, then quickly crossed the room and crouched down beside Malcolm.
"What're you doin'?"
Malcolm looked up at him, these hollow eyes meeting his own. "Opening the door, of course."
"It won't work, Malcolm, I already tried," Trip said, but Malcolm didn't pay him any attention, picking at something right below the lock. Trip sat back on his heels, a bad suspicion rising at the back of his mind. What if Malcolm simply... had lost it? Reed had been beside himself with terror when the assistants had entered the room, and maybe being alone with one of them, reliving that hell of three months ago, had simply been too much. Trip still didn't know what they'd done to him in these tests last time - Malcolm would never speak of that - but it had been something horrible enough to break a man like Reed. Break him for good. And now Malcolm's mind was telling him to find a way out - any way out, to prevent it happening again.
Carefully, Trip put a hand on Malcolm's arm, pulling him away from the bulkhead. Reed whirled around, his face contorted with fury.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Malcolm." Trip swallowed. It was so hard, speaking in a calming tone of voice when he felt all but on the brink of tears. "You... you can't open that door. It won't work. I..." I think you're losing your mind. "I think it would be best if you just sat down for a moment, maybe tried to... to sleep a bit..."
"Sleep?" Malcolm's voice rose to an angry screech. "Are you crazy? I'm trying to get us out of here and you're telling me I should try to go to sleep? I don't know what's wrong with you, Commander, but if you're going to be such a bloody coward, then get the fuck out of my way!"
Trip stared at him, and saw an insane glitter in Reed's grey eyes. The knot in his chest tightened. Malcolm was losing his sanity, and there was nothing he could do to help him. And if he tried to drag him away from that door, force him to stop that madness, Reed might just as well become violent. Careful not to make any sudden movements, Trip got to his feet and slowly walked over to the opposite wall, lowering himself onto the floor. Maybe it would be best to leave Malcolm alone now, to let him exhaust himself in his futile tries to open that door. Maybe if he saw that it didn't work, he would come back to his senses, after all. For a while Trip watched Malcolm who had his back turned to him, groping around on the door frame with the swift and skilled movements of a madman working on some non-existent piece of machinery. Suddenly Trip couldn't bear the sight any longer and turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut to quell the tears that were rising there. He felt so helpless, so damn fucking helpless. Malcolm was going crazy, and all he could do was sit and watch as his best friend lost his mind. It was so damn unfair. Trip didn't know where the word had come from, but it seemed perfectly right. It was unfair, bringing them back after all they'd gone through, after they'd managed to survive that first time, and it was unfair that Malcolm should lose his sanity now after he'd fought so hard to return to something like a normal life all these months.
A swishing sound caught his attention, and Trip looked up. When he saw that the door had slid back into the wall, revealing the dimly lit corridor behind it, he hastily scrambled to his feet, expecting one of the assistants to enter the cell any moment. Nothing happened, though. Malcolm stood next to the doorframe, that familiar half-smile playing about his lips. As Trip only stared at him, unable to speak, he gestured at the door opening.
"After you, Commander."
Trip licked his lips, feeling his heart thumping in his chest. "W-what did ya do?"
Malcolm pointed at a spot next to the bulkhead, and when Trip stepped closer, he noticed a few wires sticking out of a small opening in the concrete. "Short-circuited the lock. Would have been your job as Chief Engineer, but I'll let it pass if you'll stop arguing and come with me now."
Trip took a closer look at the burned ends of the wires and shook his head. "That wasn't there before. It can't've been. We searched the whole cell and didn't find a thing."
"It was there all the time." Malcolm was still grinning in that strange way. "We just didn't see it. Will you come now?"
Trip raised his eyes, looking down the dimly lit corridor. Escape. Getting away from here. All of a sudden it didn't seem like some crazy idea anymore, but like an actual option. But... He turned back to Reed.
"Malcolm..." He cleared his throat. "I don't know how you opened that door, but... are you sure this is gonna work? Even if we-"
Malcolm snorted derisively, turning to the door. "If you want to stay here, it's fine with me! I really don't need some bloody coward to-"
"Now wait a minute, Lieutenant-"
But Malcolm was already out the door and gone. Trip stared after him for a moment, then set off in a run as well, catching up with Malcolm who was already half-way down the corridor.
"Malcolm!" Trip grabbed the Lieutenant by the arm, careful to keep his voice down as he spoke. "Will ya just wait a minute! You'll get us both killed!"
Malcolm yanked his arm free with brute force, pushing Trip in the chest so he stumbled backwards. Trip watched in disbelief as Reed advanced on him, his face screwed up in anger.
"Keep your dirty hands off me, will you! If you're even too much of a coward to save your own sorry ass, then why don't you get back to the cell and wait for them to come and pump some of their drugs into you! Well, these hallucinations are no fun, but you wouldn't know, would you?"
These last few words came out in a hateful whisper, but Trip understood them perfectly well. For a moment he stood frozen, staring after Malcolm who strode down the corridor without looking back at him, then caught up with him again.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Lieutenant?" he said angrily, not caring if anyone heard him. This situation was so absurd Trip wasn't sure if any of this was really happening, and although he knew he had all reason to, somehow he didn't even feel afraid. Ignoring him, Malcolm turned around a corner, now heading down a long hallway with large bulkheads on either side. Trip bit his lip, resisting the urge to try and grab Malcolm by the arm yet again. The helplessness he'd felt earlier came back full force, and Trip felt despair rise within him. They might be coming any moment now, end this haphazard attempt at escape, drag them back to the cell, or maybe that interrogation room and find some cruel terrible way to make sure they would never do this again. For a brief frantic moment he actually considered going back to the cell, but then dismissed the thought. Crazy as it was, this was their chance to get out of here, and Trip was not going to pass it up because he was, as Malcolm had put it, "even too much of a coward to save his sorry ass". Besides, he couldn't leave Malcolm alone now. Reed was clearly not being himself, and if he left him now, Trip might as well condemn Malcolm to death. If Reed got caught and tried to attack them, it was very possible that these people would simply shoot him.
All of a sudden Malcolm came to a halt in front of one of the doors, turning around to Trip, his forehead still creased in anger.
"Are you going to help me or not? Cause if not, I don't need you to come with me any further!"
Not waiting for an answer, Malcolm turned back to the door and started punching buttons on the panel beside it. Trip watched him, frowning. "How come you know the-"
The door slid aside, and Trip forgot what he'd been about to ask. They were standing at the entrance of a huge hall, at least twice as big as a cathedral, lit by the same blue light like their cell. There was a vast amount of vessels stored here, standing lined up in several rows, but none of them looked like they could be used for spacefare. These were ground flitters, planetary transporters which could not be flown outside the atmosphere. Trip looked around in amazement.
"What the hell do they need all these flitters for?" he asked, but Malcolm didn't pay him any attention, heading straight for one of the vessels. Not pausing even for a second to examine the alien flitter more closely, he opened the hatch and climbed inside, not looking if Trip was following him or not. Trip took another look around, and his eyes fell on the huge double doors on the opposite side of the hall. They were closed, and looked as immovable as a rockface. Quickly crossing the distance to the flitter whose hatch was still standing open, Trip climbed inside as well. The flitter's interiors were as sleek and gleamy as its outside looks; the controls embedded in the smooth surface of the displays, the two seats up front clearly designed for a species larger than humans.
"Close the hatch," said Malcolm who'd taken a seat in what was apparently the pilot's chair. Trip complied, then turned around to see Malcolm tapping away at the helm's control, again moving swiftly as if he knew exactly what he was doing. Trip paused for a moment, then stepped up beside Malcolm's seat, trying to get a look at what the Lieutenant was doing. Again, Reed's face had that concentrated look to it, and there was no sign he acknowledged Trip's presence at all.
"Malcolm," Trip began, "wait a minute. The hangar doors are closed, we can't-"
That moment, the flitter gave a sharp lurch, and Trip swayed, holding on to the backrest of the pilot seat so as not to fall. Malcolm had apparently managed to power up the thrusters, and the flitter was now hovering several feet over the ground. Seeing Reed reaching out for the controls again, Trip quickly put his hands over the helm's displays, turning around to Malcolm.
"Jus' wait a goddamn minute, Malcolm, you can't fly that flitter, you don't know how to operate the controls, and even if you somehow managed to get that thing movin', the hangar doors are closed. You can't-"
It happened so quickly that Trip didn't even have the chance to react. Jumping up, Malcolm yanked his hands away from the controls, pushing him so hard it sent him sprawling on the deck.
"You try that again and I'll knock you out cold! What are you trying to do, keep me from getting away from here? What did they do, set you up as a saboteur? I'm only going to tell you once, keep away from these controls or I'll push you out of that hatch and leave you behind!"
Trip had to take only one look at Malcolm's face to know that he would do it, too. Reed turned around again, and scrambling back to his feet, Trip saw him press a single panel on the helm's display. The flitter gave another sharp jerk, and Trip was almost being thrown to the deck again. Steadying himself on the backrest of one of the seats, Trip felt his blood run cold as he saw the grey steel of the hangar doors rapidly rushing towards them.
"Malcolm! You're gonna kill us!"
Malcolm didn't respond, staring out the front window as if he hadn't heard him. The doors came closer and closer, and Trip made one last desperate leap for the helm's controls. He'd just reached out to press some panel, any panel to reverse the flitter's deadly course, when all of a sudden a slim gap appeared between the two gigantic double doors, growing steadily broader as they sped towards it. Blinding whiteness filled the front window as they passed the opening, and Trip stood frozen as the flitter shot out the hangar doors, leaving the building behind. Blinking a few times as the flitter rapidly gained height, Trip saw that they were speeding along over a snow-covered plain which was stretching out in all directions. The sky was of a dull winter grey and snow was lashing against the front window, almost blocking the view as they gained speed.
All of a sudden, Trip felt his legs give way under him and he sat down hard on the seat next to Malcolm's. He felt numb. This had all happened way too quickly, way too smoothly for him to fully grasp what was going on, but now there was only one thought in his mind: They'd made it. Somehow, miraculously, they'd gotten away.
Glancing over at Reed who was operating the flitter's controls, paying him no attention whatsoever, Trip opened his mouth.
"Malcolm, how the hell did you know all these things?"
But Malcolm wouldn't answer, staring straight ahead out of the front window.
TBC...
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