Title: Another Planet's Hell

Author: Sita Z

Rating: PG 13

AN: Thanks to Reedie (ouch! Hey, don't poke me! Alright, alright, I'm updating ;-)!), Buggles586 (glad you liked it!), Ocean (well, Chi'an threatened him with a knife, so I guess that was why he couldn't fight her), Luna (that's exactly how I see her too), Antares Star (hey, you're back ;-)! Hope some of your question will be answered in this chapter), stage manager (is that an attempt at blackmail ;-)? I hope not... keep reviewing, there won't be (as many) cliffhangers, I promise -g-), dottid (I'm glad you like the story so far - keep reading!), Gabi (Malcolm soll stumm bleiben?? Nein... auf seinen sexy britischen Akzent wollen wir nicht verzichten, oder -g-?), highonscifi (thank you, it's great to hear you're enyoying the story so much), Tata (Freut mich, dass du es gut findest ;-)! Did you get the chapter okay this time?), Romanse (thank you... I'll be updating every three or four days until the story's finished, so don't worry), The Flaming Dragonfly (thank you for your comments on my description of Malcolm's feelings... at first, I was a little unsure how to write a blind and mute person, so this was very encouraging), Exploded Pen (LOL... your review just about killed me ;-)!), bunsdarien (well. I can't have my readers screaming-g-... here comes the update), LoveChilde (you're right, he is (going to do what you said he'd do). I think that's what Trip would do in a situation like that), Maraschino (wait and see ;-)!), Eyes on Tactical (I agree... and thank you for your comment on Chi'an) and WhtevrHpnd2Mary (I see what you mean, but I'm not sure killing these people would actually put a stop to the suffering. Anyway, you're right, Malcolm would certainly agree that "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few". I'm looking forward to hearing what you think of Trip's response) for reviewing.

Please read and review!

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Chapter 14

"Malcolm!"

The Lieutenant didn't react, and Trip tightened his grip on Reed's shoulder, shaking him gently.

"Malcolm, you gotta wake up!"

Malcolm turned, pulling away and snuggling deeper into the pillow. Trip sighed. Malcolm still needed a lot of sleep, and it was often hard to wake him from his near-comatose slumber. Right now, however, it was crucial that Malcolm woke up and listened to him. Their two roommates could be back any moment, and then any chance to talk in private was lost.

"Malcolm, please. Ya gotta wake up now."

Malcolm blinked sleepily, and Trip sighed in relief. The Lieutenant still kept his eyes open most of the time when he was awake, his unseeing pupils fixed on the empty space in front of him. When he opened his eyes, Trip knew that he was awake, and aware of what was being said.

"Hey," he said, pulling back the covers and helping the Lieutenant to a sitting position. Trip knew that Malcolm liked to sit rather than lie on his back when somebody talked to him, even though it made no difference to him whether they were at eye level or not. "Sleep well?"

Malcolm nodded, his eyebrows raised in a mute question. Of course, the Lieutenant had noticed the urgency in Trip's tone; despite the loss of speech and eyesight, Malcolm was still quite perceptive of what was going on.

Trip decided to waste no more time. "Listen, Mal," he began, keeping his voice low. "we don't have much time, so I'm gonna keep this short. We can't stay here. In fact, we have to get away from here this very evenin'. As I said, there's very little time, and it would take too long to explain all the whys and wherefores, but you gotta trust me on this. We-"

Trip was interrupted by Malcolm's hand grabbing his arm, squeezing it tightly. The Lieutenant was frowning, shaking his head, and Trip knew what Malcolm was trying to tell him. This wasn't going to do; he wanted an explanation.

Even if I can't talk or see, I still want to be told what's going on.

Trip could almost hear the words, and knew it would be unfair and cruel to ignore them. Malcolm had a right to know.

"Alright," he said, wishing he had chosen an earlier point in time to tell Malcolm about these things. Now there was no time for "breaking it gently"; he had to state the plain facts, and hope that Malcolm would be able to deal with them. "Chi'an and I, we had a... bargain. She helped me get you and the others out of that lab, and I promised her to do some sort of business for her. She never told me what this business was about. Not until today." Trip swallowed. "Mal, she wants me to release a poison into a buildin'. That factory where... where they were holdin' you captive. She told me it would kill everybody in there within minutes."

Malcolm sat very still for a moment, then he slowly shook his head. His face seemed to have gone a few shades paler than before.

"No," Trip confirmed. "I'm not gonna do that. And that's why we've gotta get away. Today. We can't stay here any longer, it's too dangerous."

There was no need to tell Malcolm that it was actually his life that was in danger. No need for him to know that Chi'an was using him to threaten Trip into doing what she wanted. This was hard enough for Malcolm as it was. Trip saw the muscles working in the Lieutenant's cheeks, his fingers clenching the sheets in frustration. He knew there were a hundred things Malcolm wanted to tell him now, apologize that he was the reason why Trip had agreed to this bargain in the first place, ask why Trip hadn't told him about all of this before. Malcolm's lips moved, but no sound came out, and it pained Trip to see the helpless anguish on the Lieutenant's face.

"Hey," he said, placing a hand on Reed's thin shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. I've figured out what we're gonna do. But you've gotta help me. I realize that you're still not feelin' well, but if this is supposed to work, you've gotta trust me. Okay?"

Malcolm took a deep breath, then nodded his head yes. Trip knew that it didn't sit well with the Lieutenant to be totally dependent on another person, to be unable to contribute anything to their escape other than quietly coming along, and he was glad Malcolm was taking this so well. If the Lieutenant had reacted with fear or even panic to the news, Trip would have been lost.

"Great," he said, sounding far more confident than he actually felt. "Now... do you remember the flitter we took you back to the camp in?"

Malcolm nodded.

"We're gonna steal it." Trip bit his lip. "It's warp-capable, just like Orven's shuttle, and I'm gonna try and take us out into space."

Spoken aloud, his plan sounded even crazier, like an idea born out of desperation which didn't have the remotest chance of success. Still, it was the only option he saw.

"We're gonna leave tonight. It's my turn to keep watch outside; I talked to Lem and persuaded him to swap shifts. We'll be long gone before they notice that something's goin' on. But... I won't be able to come back inside and get you." Trip watched Malcolm's face for any signs of unease as he continued. "We'll have to take you to the flitter now, and you'll have to hide in there and wait for me. You okay with that?"

Malcolm nodded immediately, an almost impatient gesture that seemed to say I'll be fine, stop worrying about me. Then, however, his eyebrows drew together, and he gestured vaguely at his surroundings. Trip understood.

"Yeah, they mustn't notice, that's right. But I think we'll be okay if we take you outside now. They're all gone except for T'Min, and she is sleepin'. I'm supposed to be workin' on the flitter's systems. If we do meet somebody, I'll just say I wanted to check on you and take you for a walk. And then we'll try again later."

Malcolm nodded, and surprised Trip by swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Easy, Mal. We still have to get you dressed."

Quietly, they went about the business of getting Malcolm into his clothes, and again Trip noticed a certain impatience in the Lieutenant's behavior. Malcolm had no way of expressing his feelings verbally, but still, Trip knew only too well how embarrassed the Lieutenant felt about being dressed like a small child. Noticing Malcolm's thin lips and flushed cheeks whenever he had to rely on Trip's help in this way, Trip had stopped helping him into his shirts and trousers and only handed him the different pieces of clothing the right way around. It often took Malcolm several attempts, but he seemed to prefer this rather awkward way of dressing himself rather than relying on help. Trip knew he would feel the same in Malcolm's place, but right now, they didn't have time for that. Malcolm seemed to understand, but still pressed his lips together when Trip picked up his feet to slip the socks over them.

When they were done, Trip took a blanket from his own bed, rolled it up and placed it on Malcolm's bed, adding two more pillows at the foot of the bunk. Then he covered it with Malcolm's sheets, arranging it in a way that it vaguely resembled a person lying covered from head to foot with a blanket. It didn't look very convincing, but then, Trip was quite sure neither of their roommates would notice.

Malcolm stood next to the bed, waiting patiently until Trip was done.

"Guess that's as good as it gets." With a last doubtful glance at the bed, Trip took Malcolm's hand and helped him close his fingers around his upper arm for guidance. "Listen, Mal, there's nothin' to worry about. I'll let you know immediately when someone sees us."

Malcolm's fingers tightened around his arm, and Trip knew that the Lieutenant had understood. Careful to keep the curtain out of Malcolm's way, Trip led him out of the room and into the main hall. Malcolm showed no visible signs of anxiety; cautiously and methodically he set one foot in front of the other, following Trip's guidance and at the same time stretching out his free hand to avoid bumping into furniture.

The kitchen area was empty except for T'Min, who was dozing on a chair next to the old-fashioned sink. It was supposed to be her job to take care of the dishes, but as usual she ignored the stacks of dirty plates and glasses in order to have one of her extended afternoon naps. After working as a kitchen slave for more than forty years, the old Vulcan detested any kind of activity that involved housework, and mostly pretended not to understand when someone reminded her of her neglected dishwashing chores.

Trip heard her sigh and mutter in her sleep, and knew that there was no danger of her waking up any time soon. Quietly, they made their way through the kitchen area to the stairway that led to the entrance of the building.

"We're gonna have to walk up the stairs," Trip whispered, stopping Malcolm before he stumbled on the first step. "D'ya want me to carry y-"

Malcolm shook his head emphatically, and his fingers tightened on Trip's arm as if to say No way. Trip had expected no different.

"Alright," he said. "Be careful, the steps are somewhat uneven. There you go."

Even though there was no banister rail to hold on to, Malcolm managed to climb the stairs without stumbling. Their slow progress was making Trip nervous, but at the same time he was glad to see a glimpse of Malcolm's old, bristly self returning. Malcolm Reed would not be carried up the stairs by a superior officer, even if it meant running the risk of falling and breaking a leg. No way.

Once they had reached the landing, Trip took a brief look around. T'Min was still snoring away on her chair, and the room was quiet.

"Let's go," he said, and when Malcolm nodded opened the door. The entrance to the camp's main living area led into a deserted backstreet lined by the dilapidated houses that featured this part of the city. It was late afternoon and darkness was beginning to fall, seeming to come from within the broken buildings. A cool breeze was blowing, and Malcolm shivered.

"I've hidden a few blankets in the flitter," Trip whispered. "This way."

He guided Malcolm to an old shed across the street, the place where the fugitives had hidden their shuttle. Its front looked no different from that of the other buildings, a dirt-stained wall with two broken windows and a small wooden door.

Instead of using the front entrance, however, Trip led Malcolm around the building, careful so that the Lieutenant's feet didn't get caught in the garbage that littered the ground. The shed's back wall had been destroyed by a bomb, leaving an opening that was large enough even for an inexperienced pilot to take the flitter in and out.

"I don't think any of them will come in here today," Trip said quietly as he helped Malcolm climb through the opening. "I told them I was gonna bring the last system's up to scratch, and that it was gonna take some time. I s'pose I'll be okay if I stay here for a little while."

Left unsaid was the fact that Trip felt rather reluctant to leave Malcolm alone in his present condition. The Lieutenant was still suffering from the after-effects of the drugs, his metabolism still weakened by the alien substances he had been injected with. Whenever he experienced one of those flashbacks, Malcolm became totally unresponsive, staring into empty space with unseeing eyes and groaning occasionally when another painful tremor shook his body. Afterwards he usually slept for several hours, then woke up feeling sick and disoriented. Trip hated the idea of Malcolm being alone when he needed help after one of his drug-induced blackouts.

He opened the flitters hatch's, then turned back to Malcolm who was trying - and failing - to hide the shivers that were running through his body.

"You wanna climb inside yourself?" Trip asked - rhetorically, of course; he knew what Malcolm's answer was going to be. Malcolm nodded, and Trip guided him to the hatch, supporting him as the Lieutenant pulled himself inside.

Trip followed and closed the hatch behind them. Inside, he opened one of the storage compartments, took out a blanket and wrapped it around Malcolm's shoulders while he helped him sit down in one of the chairs.

"Better?"

Malcolm nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders, and gradually, the shivering subsided. Trip took a brief look around the flitter. Nothing had changed, and yet Trip had spent the greatest part of the day preparing their escape. In his toolbox, he had taken several packages of dried food into the flitter, hiding them in the storage hold in the back where he'd already stowed away ten liters of bottled water. Trip knew ten liters were not enough by far if their journey took more than a few days, but it was the best he could do without Lerin noticing that some of her kitchen supplies had gone missing. He'd also stolen several blankets and pillows and hidden them under the pilot chair, as well as a bucket since the flitter didn't have any toilet facilities. There was going to be no way for them to empty the bucket, but Trip decided that the smell was probably the last thing they needed to worry about.

"I think we've got everything so far," he said, briefly considering if they could risk starting right here and now, since none of the campers were in sight. But no, he decided. It was safer to wait until it got dark. Suddenly the corner of his mouth twitched when he remembered something. "I'm afraid I didn't manage to install a shower this time, either," he said, and to his surprise he saw the ghost of a smile cross Malcolm's lips.

Trip did a last check-up of the flitter's systems while he kept talking to Malcolm, telling him about his plan to scan for the next inhabited planet as soon as they had gone to warp. He knew their escape was a leap into the dark - he had no idea whether there were any inhabited planets anywhere within the next fifteen light years - but there was no need to mention it. Malcolm knew as well as he did that yet again, their escape was a desperate and hasty one, with little chance of success.

Twenty minutes later Trip got up, wiping his hands on his trousers. With a little luck, the systems were going to withstand the engaging of the warp engine, and with even more luck, they would be able to maintain a steady warp field for more than only a few hours. He looked at Malcolm who was still sitting in his chair, wrapped up in his blanket.

"I've gotta go back, Mal," he said, then hesitated, hoping the Lieutenant wasn't going to be bothered by his next suggestion. "Maybe... maybe it'd be better if you hid in the storage hold while I'm gone. I'm quite sure none of them will come in here, but I don't want to risk them finding you."

Malcolm nodded, and his face didn't betray how he felt about being locked into a cargo hold yet again, this time by his best friend. He allowed Trip to help him up, and never let any of his feelings show through as he crawled into the small space in the back of the flitter. Trip helped him find a more or less comfortable position, then picked up one of the water bottles and closed Malcolm's hand around it.

"Drink as much as you want," he said. "I'll try to be back as soon as I can, okay?"

Malcolm nodded, and for a moment, Trip let his hand rest on Reed's fingers before he pulled it back. He knew Malcolm's calm facade was only a sham. Aside from the loss of speech and eyesight, Malcolm whimpered and moaned enough in his sleep for Trip to make some educated guesses as to how much physical and emotional pain the Lieutenant was still hiding away behind those stoic features. But this was Malcolm's way, and even though it was cruel, stoicism was exactly what they needed at the moment.

Watching Malcolm lean back and close his eyes, Trip closed the door of the storage hold and let out a small sigh. Time to go back.

XXX

Trip spent the evening sitting at one of the tables in the kitchen area, watching the other campers come back from their various daily occupations. As usual, most of them only stopped in the kitchen area to grab some supper and took their plates to the back of the room to eat. He watched Vern warm up Rish's milk on the stove, and smiled when the baby almost knocked down the bowl in her eagerness to get her supper.

Trip knew it would be best for him to eat his fill while he was still able to do so, but there was no way he could keep anything down. His thoughts kept returning to Malcolm back in the flitter, and he felt a hard, cold knot sitting in the pit of his stomach. If something - anything - happened to him, then Malcolm was dead. It was as simple as that. The campers would not hesitate to kill both of them, Trip had no doubt about that. In a way, he couldn't even blame them. He was about to steal one of their most valuable possessions, was betraying their trust after several of them had risked their lives to help him save Malcolm. No, he couldn't really blame them that they were going to hate him for what he was doing.

"Tucker."

Trip started badly, and realized that Chi'an had been standing next to him for quite a while. When she brushed back a strand of black hair that had fallen into her forehead, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. She had left the camp early in the morning together with Sepek and Zha'Khor, and he hadn't expected her to be back before his watch started.

"Did you finish with the flitter's engines?"

He nodded, forcing his voice to sound calm. She can't possibly know. "I'm done."

"Good." She regarded him closely. "Is your friend feeling better?"

He met her eyes, and read the unspoken warning there. She wasn't going to say anything, but then, she didn't need to. He could still feel the place where her knife had pierced his skin, and knew that nothing had changed about her threat to kill Malcolm if he didn't obey her.

"He is okay," Trip said. "Still sleepin' a lot."

Chi'an held his gaze. "I want you to come to my room first thing in the morning," she said. "We need to talk about tomorrow afternoon."

Trip considered, then decided to try one last time. "Chi'an..." he began, but she cut him off.

"First thing in the morning," she repeated. "I expect you to be there."

She turned away, clearly indicating that she considered their conversation to be over. Trip watched her disappear in her room, and briefly thought of how she was going to react when she found out what he had done. He doubted that she would be disappointed; Chi'an seemed long past placing her trust in anyone, let alone being disappointed if that trust was betrayed. No, her reaction would probably be brief anger, and, eventually, hate, the one emotion that seemed to keep her alive. She was going to hate him, and maybe next time when she found another run-away on the street she would turn away, having learned her lesson not to help anyone who was only going to betray her in the end.

Trip closed his eyes, resting his forehead on his hands. One after another, the few people who had still been in the kitchen area left, disappearing behind the curtains into their rooms. He could hear the rustling of fabric and their quiet voices as they got ready for bed.

He waited until the last one had turned off their light, then gathered up his jacket and got up. His watch ended at three in the morning, which meant that he had exactly four hours left.

His heart pounding, Trip picked up his rifle and headed for the stairs, the handle of the weapon feeling cold in his hand. He had no wish to use the gun, but was ready to do so if it came down to this. He wasn't going to give up without a fight.

As he opened the door, he noticed that it was even colder than before. The sky was clear, and the two moons were both full, two pale red orbs so close to one another they were almost touching. Trip shut the door behind himself, gripping his rifle harder.

And whirled around when he heard quiet steps coming up the stairs behind the door. He backed away, slowly, realizing that he wouldn't stand a chance if he turned around and ran.

The door opened, and when Trip recognized the person standing in the doorway, he involuntarily loosened his grip on his gun.

"Lanja."

The Xyrillian nodded, quietly closing the door behind him.

"I went to check on your friend earlier this evening." There was no particular expression on his face as he said it, but still, Trip felt the color drain from his cheeks. So he knew.

"Lanja," he began, but the Xyrillian raised a hand.

"Don't," he said. "There's no need to explain. I know what she is planning to do. She had me check the substances earlier today, make sure they really are what they're supposed to be."

Trip heard the barely hidden disgust in the older man's voice. "She told you?"

"Yes. She said you're the only one who has the knowledge to get access to the filters."

A short silence followed. "I can't do that, Lanja," Trip said finally, hoping desperately that the Xyrillian would understand. "I know we had a deal, but... I can't murder all those people. She... she threatened to kill Malcolm if I refused to follow her orders. And I think she would do it, too."

"She would," Lanja said immediately. "I know she would." He paused. "She'd do anything if she thought it was protecting her people."

"I can't stay." Trip looked over his shoulder at the shed. "Lanja..."

"I'm not going to tell her," the Xyrillian said. "But I won't be able to protect you if she finds you and brings you back. You know that, Tucker."

"She's not gonna find us. We're leavin' the planet."

Lanja's eyes widened. "You're going to take the flitter out into space?"

"Yes." Trip hesitated. "Why don't you come with us? Try and find your family-"

"No." Lanja's voice was firm. "I understand why you need to get away from here, but I can't. I've been living in the camp for more than six years, Tucker. They're my family. Maybe you can't understand that, but even Chi'an is my family. I can't just leave them behind. I belong here."

Trip nodded, slowly. He understood. He had seen the way the doctor took care of his fellow campers, how he saw to it that every single one of them got the best medical care he could provide with his limited equipment.

"I'm sorry," he said. Lanja seemed to understand what he was apologizing for.

"It's better if you leave," he said. "Maybe, eventually, she'll find a way of releasing the poison herself, but not tomorrow. Or this week."

Trip met his eyes, and knew what the Xyrillian was telling him. If he left now, there was still a chance. There was a chance that someone convinced Chi'an to change her mind, and if that failed, there was a chance that the poison might be contaminated and rendered useless. However small it might be.

"There's a cardboard box under my bunk," he said. "The money we stole from our... from the Sar'veen we ran away from. It's not enough to buy a new flitter, but maybe you can use it to stock up on your medical supplies. Or somethin'."

"Or something." For the first time, a small smile crossed Lanja's lips. "Thank you. And, Tucker..."

Trip looked back at him. "Yeah?"

"Good luck."

He smiled in response, and watched as the Xyrillian turned to leave. The door was closed again, quietly, but Trip was already on his way across the street. He trusted Lanja, but still, there was no time to lose.

After he had closed the flitter's hatch behind him, the first thing he did was free Malcolm from his hiding place in the storage hold. The Lieutenant had fallen asleep, and awoke with a start when Trip opened the door.

"It's okay," he said. "Nothin' to worry about. It's me, Trip."

He took the unopened water bottle from Malcolm's hands, and helped him crawl out of the small room.

"We're gonna be fine," he said, not sure whether he was reassuring Malcolm or himself. "No one noticed."

Later, there would be time enough to tell Malcolm about Lanja. Right now, Trip knew it would only upset the Lieutenant to know that someone had found out about their escape, after all. Malcolm seemed a little stiff, which wasn't surprising after more than five hours of sitting curled up in a cramped cargo hold. Trip helped him sit down in the chair next to the pilot's seat, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders.

"You okay?"

Malcolm nodded (as if Malcolm Reed would admit to it if he wasn't okay), but Trip noticed the way his hands clenched the blanket, and the hard set of his jaw. Malcolm was afraid. Trip could sympathize - his own hands were shaking as he pressed the buttons to boost up the engines - but he didn't say anything. Telling the silence about his fears wouldn't do any good, neither for him nor for Malcolm who had no way of answering.

The flitter took off with a slight shudder, and Trip found the navigation controls to react better than he had expected as he steered the vessel through the small opening in the shed's back wall.

"Here we go," he said quietly, pulling the flitter's nose up, and felt a slight tremor go through the small craft as it accelerated. The dark houses below grew smaller as the flitter gained height, and the sight caused a sudden wild triumph within him. They were getting away. Leaving this goddamn planet, good bye and good riddance for all it was worth. Looking over at Malcolm, Trip saw that the Lieutenant's features had relaxed, an almost-smile crossing his lips as he leaned back in his chair. And he felt an answering grin spread on his own face.

TBC...

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