Disclaimer: See chapter one.
A/N: Thanks so much to the people who reviewed so far. You have no idea how wonderful it is to know that my intent with the character of Malcolm is being so clearly received. I hope this part keeps up the expectations from the first part!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Malcolm slowly awoke in the darkness of the cell hours later, shivering and crying softly. His arms were numb in their chains, the awkward position they were held in having drawn the blood from them. His entire body throbbed. Slowly he began to regain awareness, disturbed and scared as he remembered where he was. He could feel it now. He could sense it with every fibre of his being. He could feel that the shape and the size of this body were not right. His hands were all wrong; there were not enough fingers on them. His legs were longer. His skin was rougher. Even the language that came out of his mouth when he attempted to speak was foreign to him. 'This body is not mine,' he thought. 'This life is not mine. This pain is not mine.' But somehow they were.
His tormentor had left, presumably having lost interest after Malcolm had blacked out. Malcolm could feel the blood pooling around him, sticking damply to his skin. 'Not my blood,' he thought, but knowing that brought him no comfort. The pain was searing. His captor had shown him no mercy, cutting deeply into Malcolm, being skilled enough to know how to twist the knife to cause the most pain to his victim. For over an hour the man had tortured him in this manor, gaining a perverse enjoyment from listening to Malcolm scream, until he had lost consciousness.
As the memory of it flooded back to him, Malcolm couldn't hold back the choking sob that caught in his throat. He didn't understand this. One moment he was struggling with Kihran Ushku in Enterprise's launch bay, and then he had woken up in this nightmare, stuck in the wrong body. What was going on? Where was Enterprise?
Suddenly, Malcolm could hear the sound of the large metal doors being unlocked and opened. An uncontrollable fear seized him, and he sobbed harder, his body convulsing against the chains, causing him more pain. He could hear footsteps approaching him; however it was not his torturer who spoke to him.
"Kihran…" said the voice, soft and masculine. The stranger crouched down in front of Malcolm, cupping his face in his rough hands and wiping his tears away. Malcolm tried to pull back, sickened, but the chains held him tightly in place. Malcolm could see that he was Karatesh, the same as his tormentor, but his hair was much lighter and he was built differently. There was something very different about this man. He did not look as if he intended to hurt Malcolm.
"Poor Kihran... does it hurt? Why would you try to escape, Kihran? Were you unhappy here? Did we not treat you well?" he asked. This question confused Malcolm. It didn't make any sense.
"You tortured me." he stated, the words somehow coming out in the language of the man in front of him instead of English.
"We didn't want to. You tried to escape. We warned you what would happen." the man stated calmly.
"No, you didn't." Malcolm stated, the words requiring an enormous amount of effort. "You didn't warn me, because I am not Kihran Ushku."
The man laughed heartily at his comment, as though Malcolm had just told him a hilarious joke. "If you are not Kihran Ushku, then tell me who are you?"
"My name is Malcolm Reed," Malcolm replied, finding that saying the words somehow made it clearer. "I'm a senior officer on the starship Enterprise."
The man stood up, motioning to the man next to him, Malcolm's tormentor from before, clearly some kind of guard. Malcolm felt the chains around his arms and legs released, allowing the circulation to come back to his arms. A feeling of relief washed over him. 'They believe me,' he thought.
"If you are Malcolm Reed," asked the man, "then where is Kihran Ushku?"
The question caused Malcolm some alarm. He hadn't thought about that until this moment. "I don't know." he replied. The guard's massive arms grabbed Malcolm and yanked him to his feet. Malcolm's frail and bleeding body however, would not cooperate forcing the guard to hold him up painfully. Malcolm was startled to find himself slammed against the wall harshly, the jagged stone cutting into his already open and infected cuts, causing him to scream and gasp. The man stepped towards him, leaning into him closely. Malcolm could feel the warm breath in his ear as the man spoke.
"Usually your lies are more thought out Kihran. You must be getting very desperate." he stated, and Malcolm was pulled away from the wall and dragged painfully out of the room by the guard. "Kiva Dorian has given instructions to take you to the laboratory." The guard told him gruffly. As he looked up at the smug face of Kiva Dorian still in the cell, a disturbing thought crossed his mind. 'If I am here, then where is Kihran Ushku?' Before he could follow that train of thought any further however, the pain consumed him, and he lost consciousness once more.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Kihran Ushku walked tentatively into sickbay, peering around cautiously for the doctor. It was early, and he wasn't sure if the doctor would be in yet. The injuries he had inflicted on Mr. Reed the day before were making him quite sore, and he was worried about the cut on his hand becoming infected. 'I am certain though, that Mr. Reed's injuries will be much worse than mine now,' he thought, rather guiltily. He could not believe his luck. So far, nobody had questioned his identity. The Captain had in fact made great haste in escorting who he thought was an alien prisoner off of the ship. The Karatesh had not returned looking for him either. 'Of course, why would they?' thought Kihran, 'They have their prisoner.' The Captain had very kindly allowed Kihran to retire to his quarters to recover and sleep after the incident in the launch bay, which Kihran found most useful. He had spent the time going over the ship's logs and personnel files. As it turned out, Malcolm Reed was a most interesting man. His personal logs were sparse, but the information he kept on the ship and its crew were exhaustive. Kihran had enjoyed going over the copies of his various official reports, reading about Malcolm's various adventures during his time aboard Enterprise. The more he read, the more he realized he had made the right decision in using his device on Mr. Reed at the last minute. 'I think I'll fit in quite nicely here,' Kihran thought. He was looking forward to his first shift in the armoury, and getting a chance to examine the ship's weapons firsthand. Weapons had always intensely fascinated him, and he was certain that he could upgrade the weapons aboard Enterprise extensively, given the chance.
Just then Doctor Phlox appeared as if from out of nowhere, startling him. "Aah, Lieutenant. How nice to see you again. And so soon after your last visit! I hope you're not hurting yourself on purpose just to visit with me. Mind you, it would explain the amount of time you spend here." the doctor exclaimed gleefully. His sarcasm was lost on the alien.
"It's a pleasure to see you again as well, Doctor." he told him, hopping up onto a biobed, and allowing Phlox to take his hand.
"Let's have a look here," the doctor said, examining Kihran's hand curiously. "How exactly did this happen? I can understand the bruising and the scrapes. It must have been quite a fight. This cut, however…"
"His belt," Kihran explained quickly. "It was very sharp. I cut myself on it."
"Aah." The doctor said, without question. "Well, normally I would utilize one of my Quetzali slugs on a wound like this. It would help prevent infection and allow it to heal very quickly. However, as I know your strong dislike of my "menagerie" as you call it, I'll stick to a simple antibacterial cream."
'That explains the zoo he keeps,' thought Kihran. 'Most fascinating.' "Actually," he told the doctor, "if you think that your slug would help me heal faster, please go ahead."
"Are you certain, Mr. Reed?" the doctor inquired.
"Of course." Kihran stated plainly. He was disconcerted when the Doctor began running a scanner over his head. "Is there something wrong, Doctor?" he asked.
"I'm just checking for head injuries. That's the only way I can think of that would explain your change of heart towards my creatures." Phlox replied jokingly, causing Kihran to smile.
"I assure you, Doctor I am fine. Are you OK?" he asked politely.
"I'm fine," Phlox replied rather sheepishly. "The hypospray our alien friend used on me was quite potent, but I wasn't injured. I simply got a nice long nap. One less day to hibernate this year." He took a slimy looking slug from a basin on the counter, and brought it over, motioning for Kihran to hold out his hand. While he may have tried to act as though he was fine, the doctor was clearly a bit disconcerted.
"I'm sorry," said Kihran, and he was sincere.
"You shouldn't be, Lieutenant." the doctor replied. "You couldn't have known what would happen. Nobody could have. The Captain decided not to post security. He felt as though I'd be safe. And frankly, so did I. Perhaps the next time you run self-defence training for the crew I might join you. I don't intend on allowing something like that to happen again. Some training might prove useful."
"I'll make sure to include you the next time I upgrade the training. In fact, I could even give you a couple of personal lessons if you wanted. To help you catch up." Kihran told him, intending to keep his word.
"Thank you, Malcolm," the doctor told him, as the slug excreted some kind of fluid onto Kihran's wound.
"So tell me Doctor," Kihran asked, "how exactly does this slug help my injury?"
The doctor began explaining the method the slug used to speed up the healing process in great detail, Kihran asked questions, interested. The next hour was spent in animated conversation as Doctor Phlox explained to an enraptured Kihran the various aspects of human physiology and biochemistry.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Kihran had left sickbay very pleased. The doctor had been most interesting company. He had asked him to join him for breakfast, which had given the man quite a shock. Apparently he and Mr. Reed did not have the closest of friendships. Phlox had politely declined, telling him that his animals needed tended to. He had also checked again for signs of a head injury, much to Kihran's amusement.
They had said goodbye, and Kihran had made his way to the mess hall, intending to find something to eat, wondering how to satisfy his curiosity for human food without making people suspicious of him. The doctor had accepted Malcolm's change in attitude without question, however he didn't know Malcolm as well as some of the crew were certain to. In the end, he decided to put a little bit of everything on his plate, and took a seat in a corner, hoping to quietly review the blueprints of the ship's torpedoes before his shift. However he was interrupted by the sound of an irritated feminine voice. "May I sit here, or are you going to bite my head off again?" Hoshi demanded.
"I'm sorry," Kihran looked up, confused.
"You better be. I don't think I deserved the attitude I got yesterday, Lieutenant," she said sitting down, "although I guess given what happened, your attitude was justified."
He recognized her. He had gone through all the personnel files the night before. 'Ensign Hoshi Sato,' he remembered, 'the ship's linguist. The photo in her file does not do her justice.' He thought, trying not to stare. She was quite pretty.
"Are you OK Malcolm?" she asked, somewhat exasperated. It took Kihran a moment to register that she was talking to him.
"I'm fine. What would make you think I wasn't OK?" he asked quickly, worried that she knew that he wasn't Malcolm.
"Yesterday." she stated. "The argument with the Captain, feeling like he wasn't concerned enough about security. You seemed pretty upset. And then getting into that fight trying to subdue that alien criminal… I was worried about you Malcolm." Her tone became tender, and Kihran wondered if perhaps Malcolm had been involved with this woman.
"I'm fine," he said, taking her hand across the table to observe her response. After all, he couldn't simply ask her if they were romantically involved. She took it instinctively, moving her other hand to cover his. "You just caught me in a bad mood. That's all. I'm feeling much better now, especially since that horrible alien is off the ship." he told her, hoping that he wasn't overdoing things.
Hoshi seemed to realize at that moment that their hands were intertwined, and pulled them back uncomfortably. 'Perhaps we're not involved then.' thought Kihran. 'A shame.' "So," Hoshi asked him, "what's with all the food?" She pointed at his full plate, covered in eggs, bacon, ham, pancakes, toast and sausage. "Usually you just have the pancakes with peanut butter." She made a face at the words "peanut butter", her distaste for his usual choice in food clear.
"I'm just trying something new," he told her. "I was getting a bit tired of the same old thing all the time." He hoped that she believed him.
"I think I know what you mean. Sometimes you just need a change." she said, sympathizing with him. "So, did you hear about the planet that our sensors found? The Captain says that it's Minshara class. We may finally get the chance to do some exploring again! There's no life besides vegetation, but still it could be interesting." She sounded excited. He told her he was excited as well. The two of them continued their conversation as they finished their breakfasts, speculating as to what they would find on the unknown planet and enjoying each others company until it was time for their shifts.
As he walked to the armoury, Kihran could not help smiling. He felt happy, for the first time in a great many years. 'I think I am really going to enjoy living aboard Enterprise.' he thought to himself, whistling as he stepped into the turbolift.
His shift in the armoury flew by, the possibilities of implementing and engineering the various upgrades to make the ship safer and better prepared for battle if necessary, exciting him. His enthusiasm was apparently infectious as he caught the armoury crew smiling as much as he was, working hard to please him, apparently unused to their boss being in such good spirits. However, he found his focus on the weapons and the crew periodically interrupted by images of the beautiful young Asian woman who had graced his presence at breakfast. 'I am definitely going to enjoy living aboard Enterprise.' he thought again later that day as he ate dinner in his quarters, picking up Malcolm's work on the forcefield where it had been left off.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Malcolm slowly awoke in a strange room, which appeared to be some kind of science laboratory. As he looked around, he could see that there were various chemicals and equipment covering the counters along the walls, and there was a biobed in the centre of the room. As his senses returned, he was surprised to find that he was not restrained in any way, and that there were no guards in the room with him. He was lying on a bed, covered with a blanket. While he was unconscious, somebody had even tended to his cuts, washed and bandaged them, so that he was no longer covered in blood. 'What in bloody hell is going on here?' he thought, very confused. He stood up carefully, bracing himself as a wave of nausea hit him. He stumbled to the nearby sink just in time, vomiting painfully. He hurt. All over. He had never been in this much pain in his life. He wanted desperately to be back on Enterprise, in sickbay. He wanted to hear the Doctor's voice reassuring him that he would be fine, informing him that he'd spend the next month off duty. But that wasn't going to happen. He was going to have to deal with this situation, for the moment.
'If I am here,' he thought, turning the tap on in the sink and watching the water mix with his vomit and swirl down the drain, 'then Kihran must be still on Enterprise. That's the most logical conclusion. Unless I'm dead. But then where is he?' Thinking about it was only making him more nauseous. 'If he is on Enterprise,' his mind wandered, 'then the crew is in grave danger. And they don't even know anything's wrong.' He vomited again, his body aching from the effort of it. 'Wait… what am I thinking,' his thoughts continued optimistically, 'of course they'll know something's wrong. They'll figure out that the person occupying my body is not me, and they'll come for me. Remember what Trip said. Think happy thoughts.' But somehow he didn't think that happy thoughts were going to help him in this situation. And there were simply too many variables. He didn't even know for sure that they had switched bodies. Anything could have happened to bring him here. His tortured mind however, didn't care about the variables right now. 'Enterprise will come and rescue me. They will. They have to.'
At that moment the door behind him opened and somebody entered the room. He didn't have the energy to turn around and see who it was, but when the person spoke, he recognized the voice. "Are you feeling better Kihran?" Kiva Dorian asked him.
"I'm not Kihran." Malcolm stated plainly. These people must believe him.
"I usually admire your persistence, Kihran. But continuing this lie is foolish." was the man's reply..
"What do you want from me?" Malcolm asked desperately.
"You know what I want, Kihran. I want you to finish what you started." Kiva Dorian told him.
"I don't understand." Malcolm told him, wanting answers.
Kihran slowly approached him, his voice echoing in Malcolm's head. "We had a deal, Kihran. You broke it. Your knowledge of weapons and bio-toxins is extensive and well-known throughout many worlds. All we wanted was for you to help us design a bio-weapon to defeat the Jixan people and end the war, a relatively simple task for a man as brilliant as yourself. What we asked you to design was nowhere near as complicated as the Taknah Plague you inflicted on our colony. You would have died in that prison, Kihran. Slowly and painfully. We helped you to escape from there. We would have let you go Kihran, once you had done what we asked. We are men of our word. It is a shame that you are not."
Malcolm's desire for answers was satisfied, but he wasn't. He was disgusted. These people wanted him to engineer a plague. That is what Kihran had been doing aboard this ship. He had been helping them to design a disease which would bring death and disease to an entire race of people. And this was not the first time Kihran had done this. 'And now I'm Kihran,' thought Malcolm. 'I did this.' He dry heaved into the sink, having nothing left in him to come up. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked, the pain and the guilt that wasn't his clouding his judgement, making him hope that they were.
"Eventually." Kiva Dorian told him. "But as I said, Kihran, first you will finish what you started. Then you will pay for your treachery."
"You expect me to…" Malcolm asked quietly, not able to finish his sentence without a sob escaping.
"You destroyed your research Kihran, and escaped. And you infected five of my men with an unknown illness before you left. You deceived us, Kihran, and tried to kill us. What did you think would happen?"
"I can't…" Malcolm stuttered, his legs giving out from under him. He sunk to the floor, revolted with what they were asking him to do and knowing that he didn't have the knowledge to do what they asked even if he wanted to. 'Enterprise will come for me.' he thought again, turning it into a mantra in his head. It made him feel better, remembering that he still had hope, that he wasn't really Kihran Ushku, he wasn't a murderer. 'Enterprise will come for me. Enterprise will come for me.'