Disclaimer: See chapter one.
a/n: So many nice reviews!! I'm so glad you all like this! Thanks for reviewing!
And thanks my great beta reader!
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The rain poured down, the wind howled; Trip and Malcolm tore down the mountainside, tumbling and skidding through the thick sloshy mud. They grasped at tree trunks as they passed to keep from losing their balance too often. Neither looked back, and neither had any desire to. Instinct told them speed was essential to their escape. Branches whipped past them, sticking, and occasionally splitting new holes in their rapidly tattering uniforms. Neither knew how long, or how far they'd come. If they fell they jumped back up, as if compelled by a force too strong to be undermined by weak flesh. It didn't matter if they were physically too weak to continue the compulsion was stronger. All that mattered was that next step forward.
Night faded into gloomy day, and they ran slowly, ploddingly, gasping for air. They did not see that the mountain's slope had become gentle, or even notice the rain had turned to drizzle. They were drenched to the core, sopping along woodenly, lungs pleading for air, muscles pleading for rest, eyes dull and glazed over. A root caught Trip's boot for maybe the twelfth time that since they had begun their flight. He went careening head long, and tumbled a little ways down the hill. Malcolm glanced back to make sure that his companion continued on their path, but unlike the other times Trip did not get up. He'd landed hard on his side. Malcolm turned around to go check on him, yet found his exhausted body would barely let him climb back up. He inched his way to Trip on hands and knees, panting. Trip rolled himself over to get his face out of the mud. Too out of breath to speak the Starfleet officers just looked at each other and barely nodded, affirming silently to each other that they were alright. When the flashing spots before Malcolm's eyes faded, he looked over his shoulder expecting to find that creature racing down the hill after them. All was still; only misty vapors rolled low over the ground, the drizzling rain ran off his already saturated self, he didn't even feel it anymore. He felt if he died right there it might be just as well, for he doubted he'd ever be able to stand up again. Then he heard the noise. But instead of fear, he felt a sort of drained annoyance. The hiss turned into words,
"You cannot run far enough or fast enough…" Malcolm closed his eyes. Trip, however, was struggling to stand, plunging his hand deep into the supply pack.
"Who are you?! Show yourself!" he demanded in a crazed tone that made Malcolm open his eyes. He found Trip standing wobbly on his feet pointing a bent phaser up into the forests dense boughs. Malcolm hoped he wasn't intending to fire it.
"Commander!" He called weakly, trying to pull himself up.
"Where the hell are you!?" Trip shouted into the woods waving the weapon around dangerously.
"Trip!" Malcolm said loudly, unable to move himself from the ground. Trip looked over at the Lieutenant. "Don't fire that Sir,"
"I'm gonna do whatever I have to do to keep us alive Lieutenant!"
"You'll more than likely only kill yourself!" Malcolm said through clenched teeth. This was no time for Trip to start acting rashly.
"Your weapons… they cannot harm me, or it." Trip looked frantically around trying guess which direction the voice had come from. "I am here to help you." The voice came gliding to them on the air.
"HOW?! I don't know who or what you are! Maybe you could tell us what the hell is goin' on!" Trip yelled. Silence. Malcolm looked anxiously around. "Why don't you show yourself?!" The voice was maddeningly calm,
"I do show myself as much as is within my power. I am, perhaps, not as strong as it in this context. I appear little more then a shadow to you, though sometimes your creative minds build me into a form."
"Why would I talk to my imagination?!"
"I am not purely in your imagination." Trip looked frustrated and desperate. Malcolm feared he would fire. "What kind of game is this?" he shouted.
"Game..." the voice mused, "I suppose that is an apt term…"
"Do you have a name?" Malcolm called out, distracting Trip. Silence. Then,
"Yes… one has been given to me… by it. Parialter." It paused with a soft hiss. "It has existed before I came into being. This world's previous inhabitants created it" Malcolm glanced around noticing for the first time great towering white stone ruins nested in the foot hills of the mountain. "I wondered though, if they ever considered what they created might turn against them."
"It destroyed them." Malcolm said softly, "One being wiped out an entire race?"
"Does this it have a name?" Trip asked attempting to be sarcastic but just coming off edgy.
"Yes…" slid the voice like a ship slicing through still waters, "They called it Aetas Ferreus. However, when he turned against them, he began to kill those who had created him. It gave himself a new name. Ferreus Diluculo. It was very powerful then, it was from the creators that he had such power, and by destroying them, it destroyed some of itself." Trip's brow furrowed and he looked at Malcolm who only shook his head helplessly in return.
"How did you see this if you came after…Aetas?" Trip asked suspiciously. "You said it was there before you." Silence. They waited, almost dreading the answer.
"A question I have long pondered… You see before I was Parialter, I was Aetas Ferreus. Or part of Aetas Ferreus." Both men were instantly, tense and poised for flight.
"But when we became Ferreus Diluculo something…happened." Said the voice suddenly not so smoothly.
"And what was that?" Trip breathed.
"A separation, a breaking point, I was no longer part of the same consciousness that was Ferreus Diluculo. This was not the same kind of break Diluculo had from Aetas, that was total and all encompassing. I, however, am fractured piece that once was part of the larger entity. Though I suspect the total entity's break was something like my minor one."
"And why did this happen?" Malcolm asked low, he and Trip now stood back to back glancing sharply around amongst the tree trunks. The voice responded, amused,
"Could you tell me why your kind exists?" Parialter paused, "But I am different then it, I loved our creators, I did my best to save them, but in the end it was stronger, more powerful, and older then I."
"And now yer tryin' to save us? I don't understand, why would this… Diluculo want to go after us? Why did it attack this world's people?"
"It was… angry. You are not like Diluculo and I, but you are like the creators. It knows this. It knew when you first arrived. Run from him, but stay close, my abilities are limited, while it's are far reaching. I will do what I can to protect you. It is closing in for the kill." The form Trip had caught sight of, not entirely convinced what he saw wasn't a shadow in the dense woods, suddenly vanished. He shook his head slightly.
"I think it's gone." Malcolm whispered. Trip nodded,
"That was… disturbing."
"I'd say, do you believe it?"
Trip shrugged "Do we have much of a choice? This…Parial…"
"Parialter," Malcolm helped.
"Right, seems to me this Parialter," Trip said carefully pronouncing the name, "is callin' the shots. What chance do we have against a bein' that wiped an entire species? This Parialter sure doesn't think it's much of one."
"But we're not the same species." Malcolm said.
"And that could mean everything, or it could mean nothing." Trip coughed into his hand. When he removed it blood was trickling out of the corner of his mouth.
"Sir," Malcolm said his expression changing into one of perfect concern, "You're bleeding." He gestured to his mouth.
"Huh?" Trip said unintelligently, and touched his lower lip. He cursed softly, "You don't look too well yourself Lieutenant." He said noticing Malcolm's flushed face, and the little beads of sweat still forming on his forehead, even though the teo men had long since stopped running. The Lieutenant, hypocritically, disliked how Trip continually pointed that out. Malcolm shrugged,
"I'm alright. A little light headed, but with this adrenaline…" Trip nodded,
"Let's see if we can't collect some of this rain and boil it later," he said tipping a large curved bit of bark, which had been gathering rain towards its center, into an empty water container. He was terribly thirsty. They continued out of the wooded area into the rolling green foot hills of the mountain.
The ruins of a city could be vaguely seen now through the rapidly thickening fog rolling across the land.
"I don't like bein' out in the open, and I don't like bein' in the fog." Trip muttered, "Especially when what's hunting you destroyed the city in the distance."
"Well, if we can get back to the shuttle, maybe we can find out if the distress call is still working." Malcolm said, "Or try to contact Enterprise." Trip shook his head, "Na, the communications station was all smashed to hell."
"Could you fix it?"
"Not without spare parts."
"But you could try?"
Trip gave him a frustrated look, "Well, sure, I guess I could try." He stated in a tone that clearly said he thought it was a waste of time. However, he agreed that it was imperative nothing happen to the homing beacon. They continued into the open.
"Let's make for the ruined city; I believe it is in the general direction we want." Trip did not bother to ask how he'd figured that. Malcolm had a tendency to just know these things. He followed the Lieutenant,
"Yeah, terrible beings never lurk in ancient ruins." He said sarcastically, and they disappeared into the fog.
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