A/N -- see prologue page for disclaimer.

Thanks to my lovely reviewers! They really help me to stay focused. I appreciate the time you take. KaliedescopeCat -- I'll make that change. I just hope I don't lose any of my reviews (bites nails nervously)…Thanks Snapper & Libran Iniquity - I just love tenterhooks! Hionscifi & Stage Manager, hope I didn't make you wait too long :o). Rinne, I pulled the story off my site until I update it. I did some proofing & made some minor changes before I posted here. Thanks for everything!

A/N 2 -- added 12/17/04 -- reposted chapter w/corrections!

The Price Of Fear

Chapter 2

I

Malcolm opened his eyes slowly, carefully adjusting his throbbing head to the bright light around him. There was a lot of light, but nothing was in focus. Briefly confused, he wondered where exactly he was. He tested his arms, but a weight pinned them down. Panic welled up inside and he started to struggle in spite of the fact that every movement hurt, but a terrible sound stopped him. A low moan turned into a pained cry, then to harsh breathing. He lay still as memories flooded back.

"Trip?" he asked, voice shaking, focusing on the form laying over him. Trip's shoulder pressed painfully into his abdomen, his back visible from Malcolm's vantage . A large area of his blond hair was matted with blood. Malcolm gently slid his arms from underneath. His hands hovered tentatively above his friend's form, but he was momentarily afraid to touch him.

Then a sudden nervousness gripped him. His eyes darted quickly around the pod. MerAhn hung suspended above them by his restraint straps. Malcolm was initially startled by the sight, but the man wasn't moving, apparently unconscious, maybe dead. It looked like the pod had landed upside down. Then Malcolm focused on his location, looking down around him. He and Trip were lying on the ceiling. The position gave him a passing feeling of vertigo but he fought it down. He glanced at the front of the pod. The light was coming in through a gaping hole there. Bright emerald green grasses brushed the opening.

His attention went back to Trip as another moan escaped him.

"Trip?" He asked again.

"Wha…" Trip started, then tried unsuccessfully to sit up.

Malcolm grunted in pain as Trip fell back onto him, then he reached out his hand to help the Commander into a sitting position.

"We made it," Trip said, voice only a whisper. His body was hunched over.

"That's a matter of opinion, Commander," Malcolm muttered as he freed himself from Trip's weight and dragged himself up onto his knees beside his friend.

"You okay?" Trip asked, turning his head slightly toward Malcolm.

"I think we should worry about you first, sir," Malcolm said. "You're hurt." He leaned in and reached with hesitant fingers. "Let me have a look."

Trip straightened a bit and Malcolm saw redness on the left arm cradled in his lap. He gently touched the sleeve, but stopped when the Commander hissed in pain. Then he saw a flash of white. There was bone protruding through the sleeve. A surge of adrenaline pulsed through him and he pulled his fingers back.

"We're going to have to splint that," Malcolm said looking around. "There must be some kind of medikit here."

Trip leaned forward again and bowed his head while Malcolm ransacked what was left of the pod.

"Got it," Malcolm said, grabbing the half hidden case from a corner. He sat on his haunches rummaging for something to use for a splint and finally came up with a few short lengths of tubing from the remains of the front console. He turned around and dropped to his knees again in front of Trip.

"Here," Malcolm started reaching carefully for the Commander's arm, "let me have a look again."

Trip lifted his head obediently, then looked away as Malcolm began to cut the sleeve away with scissors from the medikit. He peeled the edges of the fabric away from the open wound. There was nothing effectual to clean it with, so he dabbed at the edges as well as he could with the antiseptic swabs available to him. Trip was quiet through the entire process, for which Malcolm was grateful, for he knew he must be inflicting a considerable amount of pain through his ministrations.

"I won't be able to set the bone here," Malcolm said, still looking down.

"No arguments 'bout that," Trip managed through clenched teeth.

Malcolm grimaced at the statement. He took a length of gauze from the kit and started to lay it over the wound, incorporating the lengths of tubing into a makeshift splint. Finally, as satisfied as he could be with the finished work, he leaned back a little and started to shrug out of his jacket.

Then there was a loud snap from above. Malcolm instinctively arched over the Commander to protect him from further injury, then turned his head upward to assess the situation. MerAhn was conscious now, and he seemed agitated.

"Let me out of here!" he howled, fighting the restraints.

Malcolm could see that the combination of gravity and the consul's thrashings were weakening the straps. He pulled Trip to the side just as MerAhn's body came crashing down. The consul lay momentarily still where he landed next to them, then started to get up. His face paled as he looked toward the hole in the front of the pod.

"They will know we are here," he said. He looked around and started to scramble toward the back of the pod. He huddled there and squeezed his eyes closed tightly.

Malcolm moved carefully away from Trip and went over to the frightened man.

"Who will know?" he asked.

MerAhn said nothing. Malcolm reached down and shook him roughly. The consul whimpered.

"Be quiet," MerAhn said in hushed tones through uneven breaths, "maybe they will not hear."

Malcolm pivoted on one foot to look out the opening again. There was no noise except for MerAhn's ragged breathing. Not the sound of a bird or the chirp of an insect. There was nothing. Malcolm thought it strange that he hadn't noticed that before. He turned back to the trembling man and gripped him by the shoulders again.

"What's happening here?" Malcolm demanded.

"Lieutenant." Trip's voice caught the armory officer's attention and he turned back again. The Commander sat staring at nothing, his right hand was up in a gesture that begged for silence.

Then Malcolm heard it too. A rustling and thrashing getting louder, as if a wind were blowing branches against the pod. But there was no wind. The air was balmy and quiet, just as it had been before.

"It's too late," MerAhn cried. "The forest does not want us here. We must get away. We must keep moving." He leapt up and ran for the door. His unexpected flight caught Malcolm off balance and the armory officer was tossed to the ground in the flurry of MerAhn's escape. It was a long moment before he carefully pulled himself up again.

"Ya all right?" Trip asked, concern etching his brow.

"Just a little sore," Malcolm responded, brushing himself off. He put a hand on his stomach and smiled slightly. "I don't think there's a spot on me that won't be black and blue by tomorrow."

Then both men were knocked off balance by the sudden shifting of the pod. A loud symphony of grating and screeching assaulted their ears. The grasses in the doorway plastered to the outline of the fissure and seemed to be holding on, gripping as if their ends were tiny fingers. Malcolm glanced up and saw that something was happening to the pod. Indentations formed as he watched. The hull started to crumple. He went quickly over to where Trip sat.

"Think MerAhn had the right idea?" Trip asked.

Malcolm nodded once, then removed his jacket, tying it quickly to make a sling. The Commander paled again as his arm was jostled into it and Malcolm frowned in sympathy. He stood and helped Trip to his feet as the back of the pod flattened behind them. They moved quickly outside, shielding their eyes from the assault of grasses battering them. Malcolm hoped MerAhn's parting words were correct. He didn't know where they would go, but they would have to keep moving.

II

Archer sat in the near darkness of his quarters. His eyes stared forward and his hand absently stroked the small beagle sitting in his lap. The door chime startled him slightly from his thoughts and he turned his head slightly to the side.

"Come in," he said without turning around.

T'pol's silhouetted form appeared in the doorway. Her hands were clasped behind her back.

"Captain?" she asked.

Archer turned then and the little dog bounded out of his lap to greet their visitor. He sniffed at her pant leg and licked her shoe. She looked down, but didn't say anything. In the darkness Archer couldn't see the look of mild irritation, but he knew it was there.

"Sorry, Sub-Commander," he said absently, then "Computer, Lights."

Archer went to the door, collected Porthos and continued petting the animal. He stepped aside and T'Pol entered. Once the door slid shut, she turned toward him.

"I have an updated report on the repairs, Captain," she said.

Archer nodded.

"Transporters are still down. Estimated time of repair is unknown. Lieutenant Hess is uncertain that repairs can be completed with the resources available onboard."

"And what about communications?" Archer asked.

"Long range communications are still down," she said. "Estimated time of repair is two to three days."

"Maybe that's for the best," Archer said.

T'Pol gave him a questioning look. Archer began to pace.

"I've been in contact with the Tuin Governing Council," Archer paused briefly. "We have permission to launch our own search and rescue mission."

"That is good news," T'Pol said.

"The bad news is that they are only willing to offer assistance in the search if we ally ourselves with them," Archer said, still pacing. "They want weapons and troops."

"I see," T'Pol said with a skeptical air to her voice.

Archer knelt to put Porthos down. He shook his head slightly, then stood up again.

"I have also been in contact with the rebel forces."

T'Pol couldn't help the shocked look that played across her face. "And what do they want?"

"One of their patrols will accompany us," Archer said. "Again, they want a show of support."

"It will seem as if we have sided with the rebels." T'Pol raised an eyebrow and tipped her head. "Perhaps we should forgo the assistance of either party."

"I've considered that, " Archer said rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "but the fact is, the mission is much more likely to succeed with help. We are unable to make a detailed scan of the area that the pod landed. There seems to be something dampening our sensors. We will have to rely on short range scans of the area." He started pacing again. "We are unfamiliar with the terrain, the battle lines and from what I understand, there are some dangerous and unusual wildlife in the area ."

T'Pol nodded, waiting.

"There is a third option," Archer said. "I have been in contact with a small religious organization on the surface, they call themselves The People of the Book. Hoshi found some general cultural information in the database about the Tuin, apparently from the Vulcan's contact with them years ago. It seems they are a defunct sect that used to be quite prominent on the planet. They are willing to help in the search, no conditions."

"Can they be trusted?" T'Pol asked.

"They seem to have no affiliations and no agenda," he said, then after a short pause, "that we know of." Then to her skeptical gaze he added, "Besides, we have no other choice."

"Do you think Admiral Forrest would approve?" T'Pol's voice seemed quieter and almost conspiratorial as she voiced the question.

"I can't say that he would disapprove," Archer said, his face set.

T'Pol nodded, but said nothing. She knew they were walking a thin diplomatic line, and wondered if perhaps the Captain might be stepping over it. She was unwilling, however, to stop him.

III

Trip swore as he stumbled on the flat ground in what was seeming to become habitual regularity. He thought it felt like the grass was actually trying to trip him, until his mind snapped back to the present and realized that this actually was the case. He sighed wearily allowing his eyes to close a little, and almost fell again. Malcolm caught his arm and cast him a concerned look.

"Perhaps we should try to rest a moment," Malcolm said. "This area seems flat, no trees here. Should be relatively safe."

Malcolm said the last part somewhat uncertainly, but Trip was ready to agree with anything that included the word 'rest'. He nodded his head and glanced over to the remains of a dead tree trunk jutting out of the center of the field. They both stumbled over to it and Trip sank down against the dead wood letting his back slide along the crumbling bark. Malcolm remained standing, short grass slapping impotently against his feet. It seemed to hum shrilly, but did nothing more. After a moment, Trip looked up wearily.

"You should rest too," he said, brow pinched.

"I'm okay," Malcolm said. His eyes darted nervously around as if he expected something to jump out of nowhere at any moment.

"I thought ya said it was safe," Trip said.

"I believe I said 'relatively' safe."

Trip shook his head slightly and shut his eyes. "I 'preciate your vigilance Malcolm, but yer gonna need some rest too. I don't know if ya got a look at this forest when we were on approach, but I did." He paused and sighed deeply. "We've got a long way to go before we get outta here."

Malcolm glanced at him sharply. The look was lost on the Commander's closed eyes, but his tone didn't go unnoticed. "We might not get out of here if one of us doesn't keep watch," he said hotly.

Trip opened his eyes and his mouth turned down slightly.

Malcolm shook his head. "I'm sorry Trip. I didn't mean it that way. It's just that…" he glanced around briefly.

"Don' worry 'bout it," Trip said. "I'll keep watch in a few minutes so you can rest too."

"That won't be necessary," Malcolm said turning his head back to Trip. "You're right of course." He lowered himself awkwardly to a cross-legged position.

"Sure yer okay?" Trip asked as he watched the normally composed Lieutenant's undignified descent to the ground.

"Muscles are just getting stiff," Malcolm said with a groan. "Remember that it was your idea for me to sit down. I don't know how easily I'll get up again."

"I'll keep that in mind," Trip said with a quick smile, then closed his eyes again. An awkward silence closed over them so he started talking again.

"How long d'ya s'pose it'll be before they find us?" he asked.

"I would've expected them to have found us already," Malcolm said. Then almost as an afterthought, "If they were going to."

"Well, I'm sure they're lookin'," Trip said defensively.

"If they're in a position to do so," Malcolm countered.

"Do ya always have'ta expect the worst?" Trip's accusing tone was tinged with fear, but Malcolm didn't notice.

"I just try to prepare for the worst," Malcolm said, his voice taking on a few extra decibels. "There is a difference."

"Course there is." Trip's voice practically dripped with sarcasm.

Malcolm didn't say anything else and the silence drifted over them again. After a moment Trip shook his head and started talking again.

"Well you go right ahead and think the worst," he said. Malcolm glared at him, but Trip just smiled a small conciliatory smile.

"Guess that leaves me the position of optimist here," he continued. "How 'bout this, once this little detour's over we make our way to Jupiter Station and get ourselves some beer… find some women…."

Malcolm looked at him disbelievingly for a moment, then nodded his head. "Fair enough," he said. "Although, after what happened the last time you suggested that, I should just stay on the ship and realign the phase cannons again."

"Well that wouldn't be much fun," Trip said smiling even wider. "'Sides, that was on an alien planet. I've got a much better feel for women from Earth."

"You mean that literally, don't you?" Malcolm asked dryly.

"Who me?" Trip asked with a look of pure innocence. Malcolm smiled in spite of himself.

Then a crackling noise grabbed their attention.

"What was that?" Trip asked, glancing from side to side. The movement made his head swim.

Malcolm got to his feet faster than he thought possible and pivoted on one foot until he had scanned their surroundings. He found nothing.

"Perhaps we should move on," he said.

"I think that might be best," Trip said, reaching a hand up for assistance.

Malcolm extended his hand toward Trip, but didn't quite catch hold before it was suddenly jerked away. The Lieutenant started back, then realized what had happened. Trip's wrist was encircled by a long woody tentacle that seemed to be trying to pull at him. The suspicion was confirmed almost immediately when Trip was yanked over sideways, right arm stretched straight over his head. He moaned in pain as his injured left arm was jarred by the movement.

Malcolm dove for the Commander's feet as they started to move away from him, dragged along with the rest of his body by the vine. He secured his grip and turned to dig his heels into the ground. Trip stopped moving, but his arm was stretched painfully, hand turning red.

"Malcolm," he gasped, "get it off me."

Malcolm's lips were set in a determined line as he pulled his way up toward Trip's wrist. As soon as he was close enough he reached a hand and tried to unwind the flexible limb. It didn't budge.

"Malcolm?" Trip pleaded, closing his eyes tightly.

"It's no good," Malcolm replied. "It's not letting go."

They started moving again. The Lieutenant's feet skidded in the grass as he tried desperately to halt the vine's progress, then he made a decision. He reached above Trip's hand and grasped the vine. At the same time he stopped braking with his feet and let the momentum of the vine's tugging send him into a summersault that landed him just above Trip's head. There was a loud snap as a well placed kick connected with the snaking limb.

The vine stopped pulling but still held fast to Trip's wrist. Malcolm tried once more to unwind it from the Commander's hand, but still it held on. Desperate, he circled around behind Trip and started pulling him back.

Then the vine released sending both of them flying back against the tree stump. Trip landed on top of Malcolm forcing an audible rush of air from the Lieutenant's lungs. There was a thud that Trip realized was Malcolm's head connecting with the stump.

"Malcolm!" Trip managed between pants. "Y'ok?"

"Get off of me," Malcolm gasped, pushing wildly at Trip as he rolled over.

Both lay there for a moment, trying to catch their breath, before they heard it. The same crackling sound, but at a distance. It was all around them now. It sounded like more vines were closing in, trying to surround them. Trip realized that the grasses were still humming around them. Were they calling for help? If they were, the call was definitely being answered.

They pulled themselves unsteadily to their feet. There would be no more rests. No more stops for any reason. They were being hunted now, and their enemy wasn't just confined to the deep woods.

Trip halfway expected his friend to snap out an 'I-told-you-so' as they staggered away from the clearing, but that was the farthest thing from Malcolm's mind.

IV

Trip suspected they both had concussions. He felt weak and shaky and Malcolm looked pale and exhausted. Initially, the armory officer had been helping to support him as they trudged through the forest, but now Malcolm was stumbling and Trip found himself trying to help his friend along. Perhaps it was the hours without rest as well. His arm and head throbbed painfully with each step, but they could not stop. It had been several hours since their near-miss in the clearing and neither of them relished a repeat of that incident. Even the shortest plants writhed around their feet, trying to catch hold. It seemed MerAhn was right though, they had been fine as long as they kept moving.

"How much farther d'ya suppose?" Trip asked finally, breaking a long standing silence.

"Don't know," Malcolm said breathlessly. Then he stopped and glanced up, a look of fear in his eyes that Trip hadn't noticed before. "Trip," he choked out as he fell to his hands and knees.

Trip reached down to help him up, but Malcolm wrapped an arm around his middle and retched violently. Trip looked in horror as a pool of dark red blood spread in front of his friend, then the green tendrils started grabbing at them, humming quietly. He looked around. The vines would find them soon. There were vines everywhere. Adrenaline surging, he pulled Malcolm to his feet with his good arm. Malcolm's head tipped back showing blood tinged lips. He was shaking now and tried to curl up around the arm he had across his stomach.

"Jesus, Malcolm," Trip breathed. "Why didn't ya tell me y'were hurt?"

"Didn't realize at first," Malcolm said quietly through shaky breaths. "Then...there was nothing you could do."

Trip ignored his first impulse and decided not to argue with him. He used what energy he had to pull them both along before the plants could take hold. His face blanched as he automatically tried to use his injured left arm to help support Malcolm. He realized that in his condition he was barely able to pull himself along, let alone someone else, and his friend was leaning on him heavily now. Malcolm seemed to hear the thought.

"Trip," he said weakly. "Leave me." His voice was resigned, accepting.

"I'm not leavin' ya anywhere," Trip said, panting from exertion. His tone left no room for argument, but Malcolm wouldn't have had the strength for it anyway. His condition seemed to be deteriorating rapidly and Trip realized shock was probably setting in. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. They would go as far as they could, then they would stop and it would be over. It wouldn't be long.

TBC…