Disclaimer: see chapter one.

a/n: Whoa, seems I struck a nerve with some of you last time cough-LL-cough ;) Thanks especially to Skye29 for the insight! And thanks to all the great people who reviewed!! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

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Trip watched, feet cemented to the spot, as the shadowy creatures merged into one. He heard Malcolm shout something but he couldn't make it out for all the dust and wind that was swirling around him. He thought he saw a flash out of the corner of his eye, but, with a noise like rushing water, all went dark.

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The dust settled, and a disconcerting silence fell over the now empty plaza. The phaser, or what was left of it, smoldered on the stone street.

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Trip found himself somewhere dark and unpleasantly warm.

"Malcolm," he whispered, and stretching out a hand taking a few blind steps forward. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He was in a narrow cell-like room illuminated with a dull bluish light coming from far above. No one was with him. He could walk the entire length of the cell in four steps, and standing in the middle of the room he could touch both walls with out fully unbending his arms. He strained his neck trying to get a good look at the ceiling; the light looked like it was coming through some sort of grating high up. Just as he was getting ideas about escaping, there was a low growl from behind him. His head snapped back down to meet those amethyst eyes unexpectedly close to him. He jumped back.

"Who are you…" the creature growled.

Trip swallowed. "I-I'm just an explorer. From earth, it's another planet…"

The creature silenced him with a dissatisfied grunt, "You are not one of us, and you are not one of them. This is…most unexpected." The eyes narrowed. Trip wasn't sure how to respond, or even sure if he was supposed to, but his mouth started to move before he could think better of it.

"It was a little surprisin' for us too," he bit off, "What exactly are you?"

"I am Ferreus Diluculo."

It either spat the words at him or said them with fierce pride, Trip was unsure which,

"Or didn't Parialter tell you?"

Trip looked straight back, returning the being's unblinking gaze. It might not know about their contact with Parialter. The way It stated that, presumably, rhetorical question sounded more like an attempt to get him to give up his knowledge unwittingly.

"Why do you want to kill us?" Trip responded, sidestepping the possible trap.

The eyes gleamed brightly. "Why shouldn't I? You are like the others before you. Perhaps not exactly, but similar, too similar…ahh, this is a dilemma I did not anticipate…You both must die. That is the only answer, the only way to be sure." It's voice faltered slightly.

"You don't sound completely positive about that," Trip pointed out, unconsciously backing away slowly until he came to the wall.

"Quiet!" The being seethed, seeming to swell in the shadows. "Is Parialter helping you?" It roared.

"Define 'help'," Trip said, standing his ground, and trying the creature's patients; he hated being intimidated. He wasn't giving anything up that easily, especially since it looked like he was going to die either way. Shackles seemed to suddenly spring out of the wall behind him and snap tightly on to his wrists and ankles before he knew what was happening.

"I must know what Parialter is doing. You will tell me…in the end," It said in a much quieter voice.

Trip glared defiantly into the shadows. "Why would I help you? You'll kill me even if I do."

"Oh, I have more interesting plans for you then death… at the moment," the voice slid becoming smooth all at once. The eyes faded slowly, melting into the darkness.

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Malcolm felt unbearably hot as his mind drifted back towards the surface of consciousness. His eyes cracked open; the dazzling light was blinding. For a few blissful moments he had no idea where he was, or why he felt so horrible. But a slight turn of the head brought all that back in one quick flood. The sea. He squeezed his eyes shut immediately; he felt his heart begin to pound. Maybe he was just dreaming, he'd had nightmares like this before… A wave splashed over the side of his rock, soaking a pant leg of what had been his hot, bone dry uniform. He started with a slight gasp and he scooted hurriedly backward until the hand he was using for support slipped over the unanticipated edge behind him. He struggled to keep his balance. Once securely huddled in the center of the boulder again, he tried to get a grip on his fear. Malcolm Reed and water, especially oceans, were usually…incompatible. A few moments passed. He noticed his hand was stinging; examining it briefly he was really surprised to find he still had one after the phaser disaster.

"Bloody idiot."

He muttered the self- reprimand with contempt, and flinched as he flexed his scorched fingers. Burned a little yes, but he couldn't understand why he hadn't been more seriously hurt. But then, why was he on this rock? He'd wager their creepy 'friend' had something to do with it. His eyes drifted out to sea. He felt that familiar rising panic when he couldn't see any land in sight. His chest began to move quickly up and down as dizziness washed over him. Again, he shut his eyes trying to get a handle on the situation; panicking would not help, he kept reminding himself. But he was nearly powerless to prevent it from consuming him. An occasional wave hit the rock, sending a spray of seawater over him. He jumped, gripping the rock tightly; he was now trembling badly. He fought stoically not to let his phobia consume him, but it was a losing battle. He wondered, with a pang of terror, whether or not the tide was rising. If it was he might only have a few hours before the rock was completely submerged. And then, with no land in sight…he shuddered, feeling his breathing become shallow and quick at the thought. His stomach lurched and he vomited, unable to stop himself. His body shook uncontrollably from a mixture of stress and injury. Crouching near the center of the boulder he covered his head with his hands giving up his exhausting attempt to remain dominate over his fear.

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He didn't know how many hours past, he didn't care, he just waited for the death he knew was looming. The kind of death he feared the most. A soft hiss filled his ears. Too drained in nearly every aspect to feel any additional anxiety, Malcolm lifted his head. That horrific landscape was still there to greet him, and he fancied the area of his rock had shrunk.

"Why did you go into the city?" the voice whispered.

Malcolm's eyes shifted to the side, but he did not turn his head to see the source of the words.

"The cities are where It is strongest…"

Malcolm was only vaguely aware of what the voice was saying his tortured mind was still currently obsessed with the water surrounding him. Water…the water; it drove him mad with panic to even look at it. His dull eyes lowered and fell to studying his hands.

"You must do exactly as I say now if you do not want the same fate to befall you as the other…" Parialter continued, apparently not perturbed by Malcolm's unresponsiveness.

Suddenly Malcolm's mind seemed to return a little. "Trip," he whispered through dry, cracked lips, white from sea salt, "Where did you send him?" he asked, still unable to look up.

"I did not send him anywhere. Ferreus Diluculo reached him first. I only just got you. There was nothing I could do without It positively knowing I am hindering It's work."

"Is he alright?" the Lieutenant inquired slowly.

"He is dead. Or soon will be. Death is the most probable answer to your question." Parialter stated unemotionally.

"Probably? Is he or isn't he?"

Silence.

"Or don't you know?" Malcolm whispered, shivering in the hot sun.

"I can take you far away, to a place Diluculo will have difficulty finding you, but I would no longer be able to help you there. It would be just out of my reach," the voice offered.

Malcolm shook his head, eyes still fixated on the uneven texture of the rock, solid, strong; it calmed him.

"No. I need to find Trip. Enterprise is coming for us I can't be hiding," he whispered.

There was a long pause.

"You are referring to the signal your ship was broadcasting into the nothingness of the sky?" Parialter seemed contemplative, "You came from there…"

Malcolm exhaled a little bored with the asinine question.

"Well we certainly don't come from here." he said tersely.

Silence fell for a moment.

"Diluculo will not, or more correctly, cannot consider the possibility of anything beyond this world. But It has long since blocked that signal." Parialter informed him.

"It what?" Malcolm asked tightly.

"It will not allow any frequencies to be used to broadcast your message. No one will hear you …if there is anyone…because there is no message."

"Your world is ignorant of space travel then," Malcolm simply observed.

"If there is such a thing, yes, I suppose you could say we are," Parialter responded, amused somehow. "But I am much more apt at exploring new ideas than Diluculo ever will be. It despises my advantage; it is one of the things Diluculo longs for. It will not be able to accept who you are. This makes it difficult to foreseeing what It will do."

"Get the-- signal back—on," Malcolm said unsteadily.

"Impossible. It is much stronger then I."

Malcolm was silent, then said, "Then get me to the source that is being use to block our transmission."

"That – is…dangerous. Very dangerous. You will be caught and destroyed."

"Better now then dragging it out. That seems to be the only option you're offering. I would rather die with some hope of Enterprise finding us then none at all." The sound of the ocean waves made him shudder. "Can you take me to Trip first?"

"You're making a mistake."

"Then it is mine to make," he said harshly, desperately wanting off the rock.

The answer came quietly, almost pleased, almost intrigued, "It is. But do not say you have not been warned. The great building surrounding the plaza you were in was once a main component in this world's network. I suppose one might consider it home to Diluculo and I, your companion will be there, if he is still alive."

"And a way to get a message to Enterprise?"

"Yes, it is possible for you to attempt that once inside. We should go now, if you wish to increase the odds of finding the other alive."

Malcolm closed his eyes as a great wind kicked up.

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Upon opening them again, he found he was sitting in that same dead end plaza he had been in earlier. All was still. He had known no greater relief in his life than this. His feet were solidly backed on the stable ground. Walking purposely past the charred remains of the phaser, he stared up at the wicked looking structure. The nine twisting spires shot upward towards the brilliantly pale sky, which contrasted strikingly with their dark pigment. He picked up the supply sack which rested on the ground not too far from the phaser, and made his way up to the intimidating building.

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TBC Reviews of all sorts are most welcome!

a/n: Thank you to my fantastic beta reader for all her hard work!