Hello. :)

We are the mysterious entity known as "Puddleducks". Well, we're not that mysterious - we're just two fairly frequent fanfic writers who decided to collaborate on a story. Rather than put our two heads together on it, however, we determined to make it a game, both for us and the reader.

Our game is that neither knows what the other will write next - sort of a blind-leading-the-blind scenario. While this will certainly lead to some interesting challenges, I trust that we are up to the task.

Your game, as the reader, is to guess who we are. :) The first person to correctly identify both authors wins the Prize of the Dedicato.

Disclaimer: Star Trek, Enterprise, the characters, and the settings are all owned by Paramount.

Author: Puddleducks

Summary: ???

Archive: By all means, but please email first

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Dedication: [TBA]

**********************************

**********************************

**********************************

Natalie's Merchant

Chapter One - Vulcan Ensign Beagle Birdie Boom!



Porthos stared.

"Quit it."

Porthos stared.

"I told you... I don't have any cheese!"

Porthos stared and wagged his tail.

Travis looked the other way.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind rocked the shuttle pod, lifting it up a good meter before rudely returning it to the ground. It landed with a thud, a bark, and a few choice swear words.

"Oh, sure," Travis spat. "We can go umpteen times the speed of light, but forecasting the weather? I guess that's still a big mystery, isn't it?"

Porthos didn't say anything.

Travis sighed and pulled himself off the floor - he was just in time to answer the hail from Enterprise.

"Finally," he thought.

From heaven on high, the sub-commander proceeded to inform him about the other members of the landing party. She assured him that their vital signs were stable, and she reasoned that their lack of communication was due to the severity of the storm, or "Perhaps they have taken refuge in a nearby cave."

"In any event," T'Pol continued, "everyone seems to be alright."

"Well, that's good to know."

Travis had been worried, and truthfully, he still was. He had sprinted back to the shuttle pod after the first lightning strike and had been surprised when the rest of the landing party had failed to follow. After numerous attempts to reach them on their communicators, he had finally called the ship.

"Ensign Mayweather to Enterprise."

"Go ahead, Ensign."

"We're in a big storm down here, Sub-commander," he said nervously. "Thunder, lightning, wind, rain, and-"

"We know."

Travis grumbled under his breath.

"Seems like you might have given us a head's up then."

"What was that, Ensign?"

"Uh, sorry, Ma'am," he said. "We've got kind of a bad connection."

"I see," she said calmly. "Is everyone with you?"

"No, Ma'am," he explained. "That's why I called. I can't raise them on their communicators."

"How long have they been missing?"

Travis ignored her as he suddenly perked at a familiar noise.

"Hold on, Sub-commander... I hear something."

He cautiously eased towards the window and peered out through the purposeful rain.

"Ensign?"

"It's Porthos, Ma'am... I can hear him; I just can't see him, though."

"Try hailing it," T'Pol suggested.

"Ma'am?"

There was a slight pause.

"Whistle," she said.

"Whistle?"

"Yes, Ensign," she said. "You do know how to whistle, don't you? You simply put your lips together and-"

"I'll try, Ma'am," he interrupted.

Travis whistled. Though he could still hear Porthos barking, the sounds did not get any closer.

"It didn't work," he said.

There was a slight pause.

"Ensign, is the hatch open or closed?" she asked flatly.

"It's closed."

"Perhaps you would have better luck if you opened it."

"It's, uh, really bad out there, Sub-commander."

"Open the hatch, Ensign."

"Yes, Ma'am," he sighed.

Travis squinted his eyes, turned his head, and pushed the button. The hatch lifted, and the wind blew a chilling mist of rain inside the pod. Mayweather held his breath in anticipation of the fatal lightning bolt, and when he did not die instantly, he chanced a peek and quickly resumed his respiration.

"Alright," he sighed. "It's open..."

"Proceed."

"M-Ma'am?"

"Hail the captain's pet," she said calmly.

"Oh! (Whew..) Yes, Ma'am..."

Travis whistled. Though he could still hear Porthos barking, once again, the sounds did not get closer.

"It didn't work," he said, then he added, "I think I saw his tail or something. He's about a hundred meters away, just inside the woods..."

(Why on earth did you just tell her that? Are you crazy??)

"Perhaps you should go retrieve it," T'Pol said clearly.

Travis shuttered.

(See??)

"Uhh... You're cracking up, Sub-commander..."

"Go retrieve it, Ensign."

(Oh, Lord...)

"Uh... Ma'am?" he squeaked. "I'm not really comfortable with...storms."

"I've gathered that."

"Can't you just, uh, beam him up or something?"

Travis closed his eyes and crossed his fingers.

"Go retrieve it, Ensign," she repeated. "That's an order."

Travis slumped and examined his feet. He really preferred them where they were - inside the relatively safe confines of the pod.

"Ensign?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he grimly acknowledged.

Standing in the open hatchway, already three-quarters into a good soaking, Travis tensed and gritted his teeth. He took a deep breath and tried to settle his nerves, then he wringed his hands and promptly shook them at his sides.

"Ok, you can do this," he said to himself. "One... Twoooo...."

***

An odd-looking bird sat in an average-looking tree, enjoying the storm.

"Storms are good," thought the bird.

Suddenly, he heard a sharp sounding "eeeee!" from the nearby meadow. The bird cocked his head and looked.

"Curious," he thought.

The strange creature emerged from the even stranger rock that had fallen from the sky earlier that day. The creature seemed rather excited, as it was running and screaming with what could only be joy.

"It must like storms, too," thought the bird.

The creature dashed across the grassy meadow and quickly reached the tree line, after which it disappeared from view. Immediately, it ceased its screaming and began whistling a merry tune.

"Ah!" thought the bird. "So that was you earlier, eh? Bully!"

The bird whistled back.

Shortly, the creature re-emerged from the forest's edge, where it promptly resumed both its run and its exuberant scream. It now appeared to be carrying some sort of smaller beast.

"It must be quite hungry," the bird mused. "Quite hungry, indeed..."

Without hesitation, the creature quickly sprinted back across the meadow and dove gracefully beneath its rock.

The bird sighed.

"Oh, that I could hunt so well..." he lamented.

Inspired, he cautiously side-stepped towards an unsuspecting nut.

***

Travis lay panting on the shuttle pod floor. Porthos shook himself off, wagged his tail, and licked the ensign's nose.

"Quit it!" he groused.

Still out of breath, Travis sat up and fumbled for a rag. He wiped his face, then he opened his communicator and contacted the ship.

"Mayweather to Enterprise."

Static.

"Mayweather to Enterprise," he repeated.

More static.

"Oh, that's just great!"

Travis gazed out upon the once peaceful meadow and shuttered. As he slowly reached to close the hatch, a bolt of lightning flashed brilliantly nearby, followed directly by a deafening blast of thunder.

From his perch high above, the bird heard another joyful scream, and he quickly squawked his agreement.

"Yes, that one was particularly lovely, wasn't it!"

***

After ten long minutes, during which the shuttle pod shook, rocked, rattled, lifted, and fell, the ensign's communicator chirped to life.

"Finally," he thought.

"Go ahead, Sub-commander."

"We were able to locate the other members of the landing party," she crackled. "Though their exact positions are unknown, their bio-signs appear to be stable."

"Were you able to contact them?"

"No," she said. "We believe there is either too much interference from the storm, or perhaps they have taken refuge in a nearby cave."

"I guess they could be in a cave," he agreed. "We saw one earlier this morning."

"In any event," T'Pol continued, "everyone seems to be alright."

"Well, that's good to know."

"What is the status of the captain's pet?" she asked, her voice quavering with distortion.

"Porthos," he corrected in obvious irritation.

There was a brief pause.

"Very well, Ensign Mayweather," she said statically. "How is...Porthos?"

"He's hungry," Travis said. "And he's wet."

"I trust you found him, then?"

Travis rolled his eyes.

(God, sometimes she can be so...)

"Yes, Ma'am," he huffed, then he remembered his manners. "I-I'm sorry, Sub-commander. I'm a little wet, too. And a little grumpy."

"Perhaps you should change into some dry clothes," she suggested. "Did you bring an extra set?"

"No," he said. "I mean, 'No, Ma'am'."

"Try to stay calm, Ensign," she garbled. "The storm should be ...ver in ...out three ...ours."

"I can't understand you, Sub-commander," he said loudly. "You're breaking up."

"I sa... to st... c...lm. The stor... will be ov... in ab... ...ee hours."

(I'd like to see you stay calm in this...)

"Yes, Ma'am," he said loudly.

"I'll ...et you ...ow when th... cl... up, T'Po... out."

"What??" he yelled.

"T'Pol ...t," she crackled firmly.

The lights on the communicator went dark, and Travis snapped it shut in disgust. He looked back at Porthos.

Porthos stared.

"Quit it!" he fussed.

Porthos stared and licked his chops.

***

Outside, the storm grew ominously worse...


**********************************
**********************************