Chapter Two
At the sight of Hoshi's scared brown eyes, Trip's head snapped up and he automatically pushed her behind him. He wasn't sure what to expect- aliens with big honkin' guns, some kind of funky purple ooze oozing down the walls and over the floor- but what he did see certainly wasn't it.
At first glance everything appeared normal; Crewman Rostov and Ensign Smithee were halfway down the corridor, walking toward Trip and Hoshi. Smithee had her arms full with what looked like a dozen or so PADDs, a number of which had slipped out of her hands and were falling to the floor. Rostov had lunged forward, trying to catch as many as he could, but most had just bounced off his outstretched fingers. What had caused the look of shock on Hoshi's face and the dawning sense of alarm to grow in Trip was the fact that Smithee, Rostov, and the PADDs seemed… frozen. Rostov was leaning forward in an impossible angle to hold, the PADDS were suspended in mid-air, and Smithee's face was set in a chagrined mask at her clumsiness. It was a red light/ green light game stuck on red.
Slowly Trip approached the pair, Hoshi hard on his heels. He waved his hand in front of Rostov's nose, getting no response, while Hoshi examined the PADDs.
"What's wrong with them?" Kneeling on the floor, Hoshi looked up Trip.
"I have no idea, darlin'," he answered abstractly, his focus still on Rostov. "Suspended animation? Some kind of stasis field? Whatever it is, we better get to the bridge." He reached out and helped Hoshi to her feet, then took off down the corridor at a jog.
"The lift's the other way!" Hoshi cried out after Trip, but as he turned a corner she cursed in Russian at him and ran to catch up.
"Don't think the lift is going to work," replied Trip as she reached him; tugging on a hatch he opened it, revealing an access tube with rungs set into the far side.
Stifling a groan at how many decks they had to climb to get to the bridge, Hoshi followed Trip up the ladder. To keep her mind off the strange sight of a wax works Smithee and Rostov, Hoshi began counting rungs, but gave up after two hundred forty-two. Each approaching hatch got her hopes up, then dashed as it passed without them stopping. She was exhausted and understandably relieved when Trip finally did stop and open a hatch, pulling her into the corridor after him with a slight grunt.
Hoshi's heart was already pumping hard and her breathing was labored, so the adrenaline rush she got at the sight of three other crewmen petrified in mid-stride didn't do much for the old 'fight or flight' instinct, it only made her stomach turn sour. Creeping past them, Hoshi decided to pencil in a mental breakdown once this was all over.
One more scramble up an access tube, shorter this time, brought Hoshi and Trip to the bridge, popping out behind the console in the situation room.
On some unconscious level, Hoshi had believed that when they got to the bridge, the Captain and everyone there would still be moving around, everything would be fine and she could get back to supporting the people whose jobs it was to make it all better. The sight of Archer paused as he came around the Tactical station dashed those desperate but far-fetched hopes, and Hoshi let a tiny whimper of despair leak out of her before taking a deep breath and stiffening her spine.
A gentle squeeze on her shoulder made her glance up; Trip's smile and the reassuring look in his blue eyes buoyed her spirits. Without realizing it, Hoshi leaned into him, seeking more comfort, but Trip had already moved past her down to the Science station.
"Can you figure out what's wrong?" Her back to Travis, Hoshi rested against T'Pol's console, trying hard to ignore the Vulcan sitting motionless in front of her.
"I sure as hell hope so," Trip answered, a frown creasing his forehead, his shoulders tightening with every command he typed in that wasn't getting a response. "Dammit." Slapping his hand on the console, Trip spun around to look at the displays on the wall, hands on hips, eyes scanning the readings, searching for anything that could tell him what was happening to his crewmates.
Hoshi, not knowing what to do that would help, watched him for a moment before going to her own station. Working around the ensign that was already there, she flipped through the channels, getting nothing, not even static. The few hails she tried got no response either.
"Oh, Christ…"
The sound of Trip's voice made Hoshi turn to see him leaning with a hand on a support bar, head down, the tension that had tightened his lean frame a short while ago now gone. "What? What is it?" Abandoning her attempts to reach anyone, Hoshi rushed over to Trip, trying to figure out what he had seen. "What?"
He pushed off from the wall, pointing down at one of the many display screens. Hoshi tried to see where he was pointing, but didn't understand what she was supposed to be looking at. "I don't see…"
"This." Now Trip's finger rested next to a readout- 02:22:57:73. As they watched, the last number turned to 74. Surprised, Hoshi glanced up at Trip. He nodded.
"It changed," she said, puzzled, turning back to the numbers. "Why did it move when nothing else is? Wait… two twenty-two. Isn't that what time it is?"
Trip nodded again. "Two twenty-two and fifty seven point seven four seconds. For about another half-minute. That last number should be rolling by so fast you can't see it." Hoshi and Trip looked at each other, Hoshi slowly beginning to realize what he meant.
"The Cap'n and them all aren't frozen, darlin', they're trapped in time."
