Title: Alone In Darkness

Authors: Sita/T'eyla

Rating: PG-13

AN: Thanks to Aeryn Lavanthia (lollipop? Rather a wiener schnitzel... muahahah...), Exploded Pen (yes, cruel evil people we are... and Malcolm's gonna get it eg), Dacker Spaniel (we love your reviews! Thank you!), Settiai (yes it does...), KaliedescopeCat (it's all going to be revealed... :-) - at least we hope so), katt (thanks for the compliment), The Libran Iniquity (maybe you're right... and maybe you're not... wait and see eg - BTW, viel Glück für morgen!!), Spike26 (glad you like it so much... but sorry, there're going to be some more cliffhangers in this one ;-) ), ocean (you're right about the escape, but that's not the end of it yet), Daria (bet y'all don't read this AN anywayyy, but still, glad you liked the last chapter and hope it'll stay that way with this one), WhtevrHpnd2Mary (upcoming ENT-story? Looking forward to it... liked your theories about what happened to Malcolm), Maraschino (more theories... ;-) ), Les1 (hey, welcome back! We missed you! Thought you didn't like the sequel... sniff) und Gabi2305 (Pscht, nix verrodn, und des schreibma jetz auf boarisch damits de andern nachad a wirklich ned verstengan ;-) ) for reviewing.

BTW, it was nice to have you all wondering what happened to Malcolm... one of your theories was quite close, but we won't tell which ;-). Have fun with this chapter - and review!!

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Chapter 4

Three hours later, Trip was beginning to feel really worried. During all those hours they'd been speeding along over these seemingly endless frozen wastelands, Malcolm hadn't said more than three or four sentences at the most. Several times Trip had tried to talk to him, but to most of his questions Malcolm simply hadn't responded, keeping his gaze fixed on the controls and acting as if he hadn't heard him at all. When Trip asked him what had happened after the assistant had taken him away, Malcolm only shrugged, mumbling something like "questions about weapons". Trip tried to ask further, but got no response, and so he changed the subject, carefully repeating his question how Malcolm could possibly have known the door code to the shuttle hangar. At these words, Malcolm all but jumped down his throat, his face twisting up in anger as he spoke.

"I told you I saw one of them go in there! What do you think, that he just walked through that door? He used the door code, of course, and I memorized the combination. If you got a problem with us getting away, feel free to get out of here anytime!"

Trip couldn't quite believe that, but said nothing, turning away and staring out the front window again. For a split second the thought crossed his mind that maybe Malcolm wasn't being quite honest with him, that his snappy tone and his curt answers were only faked in order to hide something else. Then, however, he pushed the thought away. It was possible, after all, that Malcolm had seen the combination, and even though it seemed very unlikely, it was also possible that he'd somehow found out how to open that cell door. And as improbable as their escape had been - hell, they'd all but walked out of there - Trip was simply glad to be gone from that place. He didn't really care how they'd gotten away, but they had, and whatever was going to happen next, it was a good feeling to know that they had escaped, that they'd managed to do it on their own. No, it wasn't a good feeling, it was the one thing that had saved his sanity. For Trip knew that if he'd had to stay in that place any longer, he would have lost his mind sooner or later.

Like it had happened to Malcolm. It was clear to him now that something must have happened to the Lieutenant during the time they'd been separated, something he wouldn't talk about. When they'd first woken up in that cell, Malcolm had been beside himself with panic, but he hadn't acted so strange, so... unlike himself. Now, however, he almost seemed like another person, and every time Trip looked him in the face, Reed's eyes displayed that same hollow sadness that sent shivers down Trip's spine. Even when he'd shouted at him, Malcolm's eyes had seemed so lifeless, so empty, and his anger seemed to be coming from somewhere outside, not from within him. And maybe that was the case, after all. Maybe they'd given him something that was causing this, something that was clouding Malcolm's mind, making him act so strangely. Trip felt almost relieved as he considered the possibility that this might be a drug-induced condition which would taper off sooner or later, hopefully leaving no permanent damage. Yes, that was probably the case. Trip simply refused to believe that Malcolm had lost his mind, that he had in fact gone insane in that place.

Watching Malcolm out of the corner of his eyes, he saw that Reed was frowning down at the displays, punching away at the controls with a little more speed than before. Something seemed to be wrong. Briefly, Trip considered not asking him about it in order to prevent another outburst, but then his anxiousness got the better of him.

"What is it, Malcolm?" he asked, trying for an offhand tone of voice. Reed shook his head in an angry movement.

"There seems to be something wrong with the maneuvering thrusters," he said, calling up some kind of menu on the display. "We're losing height."

Getting up, Trip bent down over the display as well, but couldn't make any sense of the readings. "How d'ya know it's the maneuverin' thrusters?" he asked, and Malcolm abruptly turned his back to him, blocking the screen from view.

"It's on the specs," he said curtly, again pushing a combination of buttons that made no sense to Trip. Trip shook his head and raised his eyes to look out the front window. They seemed to be indeed losing height, and quite rapidly, too. In the meantime they'd left the wastelands behind, and Trip could see the ground covered with sparse grass and tangled shrubs coming nearer.

"Malcolm..." he began tentatively, "maybe you need to be a little more careful handlin' these controls, you don't even know what those readings are sayin'."

Malcolm whirled around, and Trip involuntarily took a step backwards. "Will you stop bugging me all the time and sit back down on that damn chair, so I can maybe get these thrusters back online?"

"And how d'ya think you're gonna do that?" Despite himself, Trip felt anger rise within him. "This is an alien vessel, dammit! If you hit the wrong button, you could kill both of us!"

Malcolm jumped up from his chair, his face reddening with anger. "I'm the one who got us out of there, and I'm the one who flew this damn flitter all the way, so don't you go telling me what I'm supposed to do! Now sit back down on that bloody chair and shut up for just one goddamn minute-"

The flitter gave a jerk, and both men stumbled, grabbing the seats for support. Malcolm scrambled back into the pilot chair, studying the controls with a deep frown on his face. Throwing a nervous glance out the front window, Trip saw that their descending angle had steepened, and that they were now less than a twenty feet above the ground. He could see patches of snow scattered between the small brown bushes and here and there single trees looking like deformed black figures in that bleak landscape. He swallowed.

"Malcolm..." he said, his grip tightening on the seat's backrest as the flitter gave another lurch. "We're gonna crash."

"I noticed," Reed snapped, again punching away at the controls. "Now will you finally sit back down on your chair-"

"No," Trip said, coming to a decision. He was not going to sit there and watch while their chance at escape vanished into thin air. "I'm gonna go in the back and see if I can do somethin' about these thrusters-"

"Sit down on your chair and keep the fuck away from these controls, or I'll-"

"Malcolm!" Trip yelled, and the next moment they were both thrown to the deck as the flitter roughly made contact with the ground, sliding along for at least two hundred feet before it finally came to a halt. Trip, who'd been flung against the pilot seat when the flitter had hit the ground, quickly got to his feet, looking around for Malcolm. His heart skipped a beat as he saw him lying sprawled on the deck in front of the helm, but then Reed slowly got up, shaking his head as if to clear it.

"You okay?" Trip asked, and Malcolm nodded.

"I'm fine." Moving like someone in a dream, Reed sat down on the edge of the pilot seat, resting his elbows on his knees. Feeling concern rise within him, Trip took a step towards Malcolm, but didn't dare touch him.

"You sure you're alright?"

Reed raised his head to look at him, and Trip almost startled at the expression on his face. His former anger had completely vanished, now replaced by something like sadness and... regret.

"Malcolm?" Trip ventured.

"I'm fine, Trip," Reed said, turning around to stare out the front window. Trip stood there for several moments, unsure what to do. He didn't know what to make of Malcolm's sudden change of mood, from an almost violent aggressiveness to that weary resignation. The only explanation he could come up with was that Reed had been hurt in the crash, after all, but he didn't look like it, and Trip had no possibility to find out, knowing it would probably not be a good idea to try and touch Malcolm now.

After a few moments of silence Trip turned around. He mustn't waste any time now; if there was even the slightest chance of repairing the damage, then he needed to hurry. They could be here any minute, for by now they had certainly discovered their escape.

Surveying the smooth interiors of the flitter, Trip realized that he wouldn't be able to get access to any machinery from in here.

"I'm gonna go outside and see if I can do anything about those thrusters," he said to Malcolm who was still sitting in that hunched position, not reacting to his words at all. Again, Trip felt worry rise within him, but at the moment there was nothing he could do for Reed. Opening the hatch, he climbed out of the flitter, shivering as a cold gust of wind hit him in the face. It was slowly getting dark, and in the twilight of dusk the heath had a ghostly look to it. Realizing he had to hurry if he wanted to accomplish anything before all daylight was gone, Trip quickly walked around the flitter. His eyes fell on the broad trail the vessel had left as it slid along on the frozen ground. They must have been flying damn fast.

Turning his attention to the flitter's backside, Trip saw two outlet pipes on either side of it, and in between the engine, protected by some overhanging panel. Carefully removing the metal plating, Trip took a closer look at the alien machinery and frowned. He was able to identify most of the components - there was some kind of relay, probably fed by a power source inside the vessel, and several circuitries connected by complicated wiring. One of the main cables led away to a small housing on the side, and Trip surmised this had to be the starboard thruster. A look to the left confirmed his guess, only that here the cable leading to the thruster was black and charred. Obviously there had been an overload of some kind. Trip examined the cable more closely and decided that it shouldn't be too hard to replace if he found a spare cable somewhere inside the flitter.

Gotta tell Malcolm about this, he thought. Maybe I can get him to help me.

Straightening up, he turned around - and jumped badly when he almost bumped into Reed who had been standing right behind him.

"God you scared me," he said, but Malcolm didn't smile or raise his eyebrows or react to his words in any way but simply stood there, looking at Trip with that strange expression on his face. Trip licked his lips.

"Look, I think I know what's wrong," he said, "and I think I can repair it. We only need to find a new cable for the port thruster-"

"No," Malcolm said, slowly shaking his head. "You're not going to repair it."

Trip stared at him, thinking he must have misheard him. "What?"

"You're not going to repair that thruster. Go back inside."

Trip looked at him. Reed's features were firmly set, his mouth a thin line. His voice was calm, but what he was saying sounded just as insane as before when he'd been yelling.

"Listen, Malcolm," Trip began hesitatingly, "I can repair this. I can get this flitter flyin' again, I only need to replace that cable. It's totally fried, looks like it's been short-circuited-"

"I know," Malcolm said calmly. "I short-circuited it."

And looking at his face, Trip knew that he was speaking the truth. Malcolm had indeed initiated this overload, and he'd done so on purpose, but Trip doubted that even Reed himself knew the reason why. He took a cautious step towards him.

"Look Malcolm," he said, fighting for a calming tone of voice, "I... I think you're not feelin' so well at the moment-"

"I'm not crazy," Malcolm said flatly, and Trip stopped in his tracks. Reed indeed sounded as if he knew what he was saying, and that mad glint had disappeared from his eyes, leaving only sadness in its wake. "It was an act," Malcolm continued in that same flat voice. "I pretended I'd gone insane so you wouldn't get suspicious. So I didn't have to answer your questions. After all, how would I have explained that I was able to fly that vessel even though I'd never seen it before?" He let out a short laugh, and it was the saddest sound Trip had ever heard in his life. "And on the whole, I think I did quite well."

Trip stared at him, feeling as if the ground had suddenly disappeared under his feet, and he was falling into a deep abyss where there was no bottom. He opened his mouth to speak, but at first no sound came out, and he swallowed.

"Malcolm," he said, shaking his head. "Why? Why would you do that?"

Reed turned his head, staring at the horizon where the sun was setting against the background of a bruised sky, casting a crimson glow over the heathland.

"They said it was my choice," he said quietly. "Either this or the tests. It was a set-up; they wanted to simulate an escape, see how you'd react..."

He trailed off, and Trip leaned back against the flitter, pressing one fist against his mouth. He felt numb. Malcolm turned his head back to look at him.

"Go inside," he said. "It's getting dark. They'll be getting us soon."

Raising his head, Trip met his eyes. They were hollow, lacking all expression, and suddenly Trip remembered the time when Malcolm had woken up in sickbay three months ago. Then, he hadn't known where he was, hadn't recognized anyone, his mind a captive in the world of his nightmare. Malcolm had never told him about it, but Trip knew that whatever had happened in these tests must have been a horror beyond imagination. Something Malcolm would never - could never go through again. Lowering his hands, Trip pushed himself away from the flitter. That strange numb feeling inside him hadn't changed, but somehow the rational part of his mind seemed to have taken over control, telling him that he needed to get going, that no matter what he mustn't wait for them to come and get them.

"Look Malcolm," he said. "no matter what they told you, we can still get away. I can repair that flitter. We can get out of here, together."

For a moment, Malcolm only stared at him, then he slowly shook his head. "No. No, we can't. Get back inside."

"Malcolm!" At Reed's expressionless gaze, Trip felt despair rise within him. "Why are you doin' this? We can get away from them! We don't have to go back!"

"Get back inside," Malcolm repeated. Trip shook his head.

"No I won't. I'm gonna repair this thruster now, and then we're gonna get out of here."

Trip was just about to turn back to the engine when he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eyes. He looked up - and froze. Malcolm was holding a weapon in his hand, some kind of phase pistol, and he was pointing it directly at Trip.

"Step away from the flitter," he said, but Trip couldn't move, not able to take his eyes off the gun Malcolm had suddenly produced out of nowhere.

"Malcolm..." he said, barely audible. "What are you doin'?"

But Reed didn't answer. Keeping his eyes fixed on Trip, he pulled some kind of communications device from his pocket and flipped it open.

"You can get us now," he said quietly. "We're done."

TBC...

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