Disclaimer: see chapter one
a/n: Your reviews are so encouraging! Thank you! Exploded Pen, I blame you for what happens to Malcolm in this chapter. Your first review just got me thinking…
And, of course, thanks to my patient beta reader!
Trip shivered, the fog and misting rain was almost worse than the heavy rain had been earlier. The fear that had driven him previously was slowly fading away. He trudged along behind Malcolm, every step becoming more difficult then the last. He didn't understand how Malcolm, who had been through at least as much as he, continued with such a steady, unbroken gait. He strove forward, chin up with straight, un-hunched shoulders, taking wide steps. Their uniforms appeared a darker blue then normal; being still very much drenched. The stiff breeze that had kicked up blew the fine drizzle directly into their faces. Trip's shivering was fast becoming continuous as the wind cut through him. Malcolm's figure was disappearing in the dense air,
"M-mal, Malc…" he sputtered trying to tell the Lieutenant to slow down but was utterly surprised by the sound of his own voice. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He paused momentarily, leaning his head forward and down. Taking a few deep breaths he pulled himself together and continued unsteadily through the tall grass. The grass shot up from the ground in brittle clumps coming up to his shoulders. They rustled loudly as he pushed passed them.
Malcolm narrowed his eyes, squinting to see though the heavy mists rolling about them. The place had taken on a sort of marshy appearance he thought marching through the sludge like dirt. Suddenly he stumbled on something hard; a large white stone. He caught himself, and turned to examine it. It was a long flat monolith, half buried in the thick dirt. He touched it. The stone's texture was smooth and polished. Frowning he studied it momentarily glancing up, then in quick repetition lifted his eyes again to the sight in front of him. A great white stone stair way stretched out before him; leading up to a crumbling city of giant stone buildings. The towering structures were not as high as earth sky scrapers but the foundations on which that sat were at least as big. Carefully, he made his way up the cracking, decaying steps. The street he came to was paved with more white stones, only these were of a smaller variety. There was sculpting of all sorts adorning curved arch ways. Malcolm found it to look Hellenistic, but abstract because he wasn't familiar with the subject matter. He turned around intending to point out the detail to Trip, but discovered the Commander was not behind him.
"Trip?" he called out, his voice echoing unexpectedly off the edifices around him. From his slight elevation he could see over the grasses tall tips, but the low clouds still limited visibility. The peace unnerved him. Wind softly rustled the grass; he hardened his expression and dauntlessly descended the steps.
"Trip!" he said loudly. He heard a rustle. Whipping around, his hand automatically touched his hip where his phaser would usually be. He sincerely wished now they'd kept the shuttles better equipped for these unexpected away missions. His eyes flitted, scanning deep into the grasses. Then he saw it. A flash of color, violet. Taking a few nervous steps backward towards the city, his mind ran through his options. Then, to the right of where he'd thought he had seen the colorful glow came a ruckus, something was moving loudly through the brush. Malcolm appeared calm, and took a few more steps backward up the stairs.
Trip stumbled out of the tall weeds, panting. Malcolm's tense pose immediately relaxed.
"You-got, ahead of me." He said.
"Sorry." Malcolm said shortly, cocking his head to one side, pain shooting briefly through it. He followed Trip's gaze up to the city.
"Hmmh, dreary." He said starting to climb the steps.
"Dreary?" Malcolm repeated incredulously.
"Yeah, it's all the same color."
"It's classical."
"It's borin'."
"Does everything have to be painted in outrageously loud rainbow colors for you to be impressed?"
"No, and just what are you insinuatin'?"
"Nothing. It's just your choices in civilian clothing generally speaks to the contrary. I seem to remember a certain shirt…"
"Okay, okay!" he bristled, wondering why he currently found Malcolm's voice so irritating. He finished climbing the decaying stairway, only stumbling once. "Do you think we should stop for a few minutes?" he said attempting to employ a nonchalant inflection as he spoke. But Malcolm was not that easily fooled. He knew Trip was as exhausted as he. With a casualness, belonging solely to him, he turned his hands on his sides. The corners of his mouth shot down sharply for the briefest moment and his brow lifted; he nodded.
"I know I could use some drying off." Was all he said, deciding not to call out Trip's attempt to be less then candid.
"Good, 'cause I could use some time to sit." Trip responded, than added, "We're going to check your bandages." He noticed the gauze wound round the Lieutenant's head was filthy, and stained with blood.
"Fine, then we'll look at your side." He said. Trip shot him a dirty, rather disgusted look.
"No thanks, I'm fine." He said mulishly. Malcolm called him a bloody… something under his breath and followed Trip further into the city.
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While walking among the tall structures, looking for somewhere to take shelter, they came across an oddity about the place. The doors, or what they assumed were doors, had no apparent knob, latch or keyhole. And they were at a loss as to how to open any.
"Maybe they use to be activated by sensors, run on electricity or some other kind of comparable power," Trip suggested.
"Hm. Could be," Malcolm said running his hand over the doors smooth, un-textured surface. "Well, it looks like we are stuck out here." He said leaning up against the stone wall under the covered doorway. Trip sank down, heavily tossing the pack down.
"Right, let's see the head." He motioned for Malcolm to come closer. Quickly the Lieutenant loosened the bandage. Trip grimaced to see it now. The skin had puffed up even more, protesting the presence of the offending shard. The ooze had more of a yellow tinge to it, and it was bleeding afresh.
"Ugh, that's not a pretty sight." He said swabbing at it carefully with disinfectant. "I think it's worse, does it feel worse?" Malcolm considered the stabbing pain running down his neck as Trip touched the injury, the burning heat of his head, and the over all exhaustion. Then, in his understated way, responded,
"Yes, I would say it feels considerably worse." Trip bandaged him up again. "Neither of us is going to last much longer with out sleep." He pointed out, experiencing a wave of heat roll through him despite the cool temperature. Trip nodded,
"I think I was the last one who slept, so you go ahead, and when I can't stay awake any longer I'll wake you." The Lieutenant nodded drifting away almost instantly.
It wasn't very long after Malcolm had slipped into a peaceful slumber that Trip began experiencing severe pain in his side again. He felt helpless as he eased himself into a reclining position and tried to wait out the sharp stabbing quietly. For some reason he didn't think he would mind a visit to sickbay so much right now, heck, he would even let Phlox use one of his animals on him. Well, so long as it wasn't one of those leeches that he'd used on Malcolm's knee once. He defiantly didn't want one of the doctor's pets in him, no matter how badly he was hurt. Struck with a sudden melancholy mood, he wondered how much longer either of them had out here until they … succumbed. Shivering steadily he tried to shake off the depressing notion. He let his gaze wander over the deserted streets, delicate relief sculptures adorned most windows and door frames. He could see now that many of the friezes had once been stained a coral color, or a pale green.
"Not so plain after all." He said studying the one directly above his head. He was curious about what this planets inhabitants had looked like. It was impossible to judge by the art he was viewing. Most of the forms looked abstract, geometrical, or fluid like. He had no idea if they were supposed to represent anything at all. With trembling hands he pulled his collar up a little further. The rain began to fall again.
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When both had rested and dried somewhat, they prepared to continue. The soles of their boots made soft tapping noises as they made their way farther into the city. After a few hours of walking, they came to a large oval plaza with a great unkempt garden at its nexus. The tree in the middle of the over grown brush had roots spilling out of the stone planter, and they were now worming their way down through the crumbling paved ground. There was a building that seemed to wrap half way around the oval, dead ending the road they were on. It had a large sort of curved triangular foundation, but about eight or nine twisting spires grew out of it, tapering, as they reached up into the sky.
"That's interestin'" Trip said. Malcolm had taken the supply pack off and was currently digging through it. Trip cautiously walked the perimeter of the structure, looking for a way around it. "Looks like this is the end of the road." Trip said breathily, sitting down on the edge of what had probably once been a small planter. Malcolm lifted his eyes, and nodded.
"We'll have to go back," The Lieutenant said. In his lap lay the broken phaser, or part of it, the other portion was in his hand. He was trying to bend an internal component back into place.
"You think you can really fix that?" Trip asked hopefully.
"It's not as badly damaged as I thought. I may be able to. I only wish we had some real instruments to use." They sat for a few minutes; Malcolm was making surprisingly good progress, when Trip felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. His head snapped up instantly, meeting the increasingly familiar violet gaze once again.
"Malcolm," he whispered, "Looks like our 'ol pal Ferreus Diluculo is back."
"And this time he's brought friends," Malcolm murmured. Trip looked, and along the darkened door ways and shadows lurked five or six pairs of identical iridescent eyes. Trip turned with a wild look in his eyes,
"That, that thing," he said forgetting Parialter's name, "told us there was only one!" he whispered, panic creeping into his voice.
"I know." The Lieutenant responded grimly, as they edged themselves rapidly along the curving wall, heading towards the main street. Malcolm fiddled frantically with the phaser.
"There's no time!" Trip hissed, "We don't even know if it'll work against it."
"Considering Parialter lied about this creature's numbers I don't know what to take as truth." Malcolm answered not looking up from his work as they rapidly continued, "Personally, I would feel better armed." Trip was keeping a steady eye on the lurking creatures. None of them had yet moved, but their gaze followed the men's every movement.
"They're watchin' us Malcolm," Trip said in a trembling voice. "Let's make a break for it," he said barely above his breath.
"Trip! Wait!" Malcolm called, not thinking much of that idea, but it was too late. The Commander had already taken off. Instantly the eyes began to slide towards the only exit from the plaza, moving faster then the officers could. Malcolm struggled to keep up with Trip as he continued to work on the phaser. The main street was just a little further…Sweeping silently along in the shadows the creatures over took them, lining the dark gateway, blocking it. Trip skidded to a halt, glancing frantically about for an escape. His side burning again. He backed away, shaking. Trapped. The creatures began to wind towards him with that same serpentine movement.
"Malcolm run!" he yelled, feeling oddly rooted to the spot. Malcolm, who lagged behind, looked up in time to see the eyes heading directly for Trip, intense and focused. He made one final adjustment, and snapped the cover back on the weapon. He got within ten feet of the Commander, when the eyes of the creatures seemed to swell together, rising in the shadows. They merged together, becoming one pair, gleaming brightly. It came down on Trip with a whirl of dust.
"Trip! RUN!" Malcolm screamed, pointing the weapon, with a short prayer, he fired. It didn't go off the way it was supposed to, a rather large explosion seemed to have taken place in his hand; searing heat crept up his arm. There was a blinding light, then no more.
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He felt coldness around him as consciousness returned. His eyes cracked open slowly. Twinkling stars in a foreign sky greeted him, glittering brightly. He tried to sit up, but only managed to roll over. Water hit his face, instinctively he jerked away only to have his foot plop loudly into more liquid in the other direction. He forced himself up, looking about with a feeling of utter dread. His stomach dropped. Nothing but ocean. It stretched out as far as he could see in all directions. Agonizing pain coursed through him and he sank back down with a groan. The pain intensified and Malcolm slipped into unconsciousness; lying on the solid tip of a solitary rock in the middle of the ocean. Trip was not with him.
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TBC a/n: Please review! Reviews of all sorts are most welcome!