Disclaimer: see Chapter 1.

Chapter 6

Malcolm lay sprawled on the deck, conscious of air rushing past his face. His breath came harshly in snatching gasps - a desperate struggle to capture the rapidly thinning atmosphere. Then his vacuum training kicked in and he emptied his lungs, feeling water bubbling on his tongue as the pressure plummeted.

He had to evacuate the bay quickly, before the bulkheads slammed down and he was trapped. Which direction to go in? He hardly knew which way was up in the disorientating blackness. Pressing his palms on the deck, he steadied himself and squinted into the dark, seeking something to guide him.

"Pan. You okay?" Bailey's voice came from nearby.

"Yeah. You?" forced Malcolm, expelling his last air.

"This way," came Bailey's urgent command, sounding now behind Malcolm.

Malcolm turned to the sound, fighting against the dreadful outrush. Then emergency lighting activated, running in a sequence to show the way to the exit. Malcolm staggered to his feet, trying to fix the direction in his mind. His vision was fading fast. The lights became mere blurs, growing dimmer by each instant.

"Come on," encouraged Bailey. "Hurry!"

Malcolm ran as best he could towards Bailey's position. A synthesised voice impassively counted down. Only fractions of seconds left before the cargo bay was abandoned to vacuum - and Malcolm with it. He rammed his feet onto the deck with all his force, driving urgently forward. Suddenly, he was jerked off his course as Bailey's arm wrapped about him. Malcolm was half-dragged, half-guided, to his right for a couple of steps and the two men stumbled together over the raised threshold of the small access door.

It was only just in time. They had scarcely cleared the threshold than emergency bulkheads crashed down into place to seal the cargo bay. A microsecond later and Malcolm would have been on the wrong side - caught in vacuum - or sliced in half.

Malcolm fell on his hands and knees, his heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears, with Bailey slumped down next to him on the floor. Both concentrated on drawing in deep shuddering breaths of precious air - the only thing that mattered right then.

The corridor lights flickered into weak existence as auxiliary power came on. Unable to speak, his lungs still burning, Malcolm nodded his thanks at Bailey. That had been an extremely close run thing.

Gomez' frantic voice issued from the nearest comm panel as internal communications were restored. "... you okay? Repeat: report in. Is everything all right? Come on... Answer me."

Bailey clambered to his feet and hung on the answer button. "Red. I'm okay. So's Pan. We got caught in the cargo bay but made it out before it was sealed."

"Thank God!" came Gomez' relieved response. "Wait there. I'll be with you soon."

Bailey lowered himself again to the ground. "I'm in no hurry to go anywhere just yet," he said, a little shakily.

Malcolm's eyes flickered over to Bailey. Without Bailey's intervention, he wouldn't have made it. It had been too close for comfort. He said sincerely, "Thank you, Mot. I don't think I would have got out without you."

Bailey clapped him on his shoulder in acknowledgement.

Closing his eyes, Malcolm added, "You nearly got caught because of me. You know, you really shouldn't have waited."

Bailey chuckled. "I'll throw you out of an airlock if that's what you want! Don't worry. I was listening to the countdown. There was time."

Malcolm shook his head gratefully, not inclined to argue, but he knew Bailey had risked his life to save him. Bailey knew it too. But if that's how he wanted to play it, Bailey had every right to call the shots.

Neither had moved by the time Gomez arrived. His face was taut with tension and paler than ever. "I thought I'd lost both of you." His normally aloof facade had been replaced by an expression of deep concern.

"What happened?" asked Malcolm, getting to his feet.

Gomez frowned. "I don't know. I think we struck debris, but there was nothing on sensors. I've cut the power to the engines." He sighed and said to Bailey, "We'll have to go outside to see what's happened. All the video links are cut."

"I'll come with you, too," volunteered Malcolm, earning an appreciative look from Gomez.

----------------------

The three men suited up and exited via the port on the opposite side of the ship to whatever had gone wrong. The part of the ship near the port showed no sign of any problems. When they rounded the other side, however, it was a different story.

"My ship," said Gomez weakly, stunned by the terrible twisted confusion that confronted them.

The Mariposa had suffered devastating damage. An entire section had been brutally torn off the hull, exposing a large volume of the ship to space. The impulse and thruster jets had gone. They had either disintegrated or were now off on some independent adventure of their own. And settled in the grappling nets was the culprit: a roughly cylindrical artificial construct, about ten metres in length and half that in diameter, with no obvious bow or stern.

They stomped carefully across the hull, anchored by their magnetic boots and each step an effort. The exposed edges of the hull were lethally jagged. It would be all too easy to tear a suit beyond repair.

"We need to secure this thing, whatever it is," said Gomez, peering through his visor at the object.

"Wouldn't it be easier to cut it free?" asked Malcolm. "Then we can make a jury rig to restore attitude control." He studied the artefact. One end was firmly wedged at an end of the cargo bay. If they jettisoned it, they could lay a temporary cover over at least part of the gashed opening and perhaps relocate a thruster assembly to this side of the ship.

Gomez shook his head, exaggerating the motion so it was clearly visible even though he was wearing a helmet. "Oh no. We've suffered enough. Now it's time to profit!"

"What do you mean?" asked Malcolm, not liking the sound of that.

"We can make some cash from this. Salvage! There's no way I'm abandoning it. For one thing it'll pay for repairs to the Mariposa."

Malcolm gazed at the unwieldy object, wondering how they were going to be able to lash it to the ship to survive flight. He also wondered what it was. Could it pose a threat to them? He said, "Before we do that, we should carry out some scans. Determine exactly what it is."

"Does it matter?" snorted Gomez dismissively, his attention taken by the disfiguring rent to his vessel. He was now making his way gingerly along the brutally-stripped hull, stopping to examine the damage at close hand. Malcolm could hear his dismayed reactions at each new unwelcome discovery.

"It won't take long," assured Malcolm, watching Gomez' slow progress. "If we are going to be hugging that thing while we return to the Facility, we really should know what it is." It could be a bomb. Or a mine. Were there more of them? Malcolm craned his head around to see if he could spot anything else lurking in their vicinity

Gomez grunted. "Okay, some scans then, but make it quick. I'm not happy being stuck here. We need to get moving."

Malcolm made best speed back to the airlock and soon returned with his most sophisticated scanning platform. It was set for geological surveys. That was were its strengths lay, but it was possible to recalibrate for other substances such as alloys, or even biosigns. He directed the equipment sensors at the object and tapped through the available settings with practiced ease. Then he set the scan running and manoeuvred to watch the real-time results build up.

Nothing was registering at all! He frowned in irritation at the blank display. What a time for it to go out of service! He called up the internal diagnostic. That reported all as working. Malcolm shook his head and tried again, re-initialising everything to start from scratch. No success. It still didn't read anything. According to his equipment, this item did not exist. He eyed the intruder's solidity over the top of his display - taunting him. Yep. It was most definitely there. If he could have reached inside his helmet, he would have scratched his head.

Gomez loomed up alongside. "Well?" he demanded. "What is it?"

Malcolm shook his head and tried yet again. Still nothing. He did not like this one bit. Why would anyone go to such lengths to disguise an object like this? What was it! His frustration boiled over. "I'm damned if I know. Can't we leave it here with a marker buoy? Come back to it later with reinforcements?" Even, heaven help them, with a Starfleet ship. He looked hopefully at Gomez.

Gomez' answer was immediate and decisive. "No. I'm not wasting time with a return journey, and I'm not prepared to share the proceeds. I'm not diluting them by getting anyone else involved."

"It could be dangerous-"

"I'm not going to leave it." Gomez was implacable.

"But, Red-"

"Enough, Pan! This is my ship and I'm the Skipper. Now help me secure it or go back inside. I'm not listening to any more objections. Understand?" Gomez was normally pretty easy-going, but now he was undeniably laying down the law.

Malcolm sighed. "Yes, Skipper," he said reluctantly. He made his way over to Bailey to help unship the handling mechanisms and grappling lines.

The three men worked diligently to extract the object, which Bailey had taken to calling Baby, from the cargo bay using the gear that was more properly designed for hauling lumps of asteroid around. The first part of the task was the most challenging - removing the object without causing further damage to the ship. Their mining skills helped, and eventually they had it free. Malcolm was grateful once more for his foresight in paying for top spec EV suit. The exercise had taken hours of labour with few breaks.

They paused to consider the next step, the object now disengaged from the ship and parked a little away from it. Malcolm made one last plea for caution. "Red, I really think we should leave it here. It could be anything. And there might be others out here we can't detect."

Gomez glared at him, the lighting of his suit giving his face an unhealthy pallor. "For the last time - no! It's my decision to make, and I've made it. And as for any others- we can't do anything about that if we can't see them, can we? Now - are you going to help secure it?"

Malcolm gave in. He had done his best. He only hoped his inability to convince Gomez was not going to be punished down the line. "Yes. Okay."

The men tethered the device against the hull with grappling lines and nets. Once that was secure, they reconfigured the thruster assemblies and reset the controls. Then they had to reroute some of the ship's systems that had been disrupted by the collision. It was hard, concentrated work, and both physically and mentally demanding.

By the time the Mariposa was ready to get underway again with its mysterious hitchhiker, they were exhausted. Malcolm took one last, anxious look at the thing before he returned inside. His only comforting thought was that, if it was indeed a destructive device of some kind, it had had ample opportunity to do its job, and so far it had remained quiescent. He still couldn't understand Gomez' eagerness to place them all in such a potentially threatening situation, but, short of carrying out a one-man mutiny, he was in no position to change matters.

----------------------

Malcolm relaxed on the couch in the common area, letting his mind wander as he stared out of the window. His worries were firmly pushed to one side. There was nothing he could do about the situation, and that was all there was to it. Over in a corner, Gomez was tapping away at his PADD, providing an almost soothing background of normality. They were underway, at last, with Bailey on the flight deck, steering the Mariposa along a painfully slow and careful course back to the Facility.

The shower had done Malcolm a world of good. Lazily, he stretched out his legs, easing the tired muscles. Now what he needed was a few hours of uninterrupted sleep and he was certainly ready for it. He was exhausted.

Still… it was all very unsettling. He sighed. Try as he might, he couldn't forget that they were carrying an unwelcome passenger. There was one good thing, however. They had cleared another hurdle. The object hadn't done anything untoward when the engines started up.

Malcolm looked over to Gomez, deeply engrossed in his PADD. Perhaps he could have another go at persuading Gomez to rig up some sort of quick release mechanism to free 'Baby' if it suddenly woke up? No - it would do no good. And with no way to detect Baby's status, what warning would they get, anyway?

Baby! What a ridiculous name - trust Bailey! Malcolm snorted.

Gomez glanced up from his PADD. "Thanks again for helping out there. We'd still be at it without you."

Malcolm shrugged. "No problem. I just hope the repairs hold out." And we don't get blown to smithereens.

"I'll keep our speed down to reduce hull stresses. We'll be okay." Gomez sounded confident.

Malcolm thought about that hulking unknown now firmly attached to their hull. He suppressed a shudder. "I ran a diagnostic on the ship's emergency beacon," he offered.

Gomez laughed, then cut it short as he took in Malcolm's demeanour. "You're not joking, are you?"

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. Why would he be joking? He'd made a point of checking it the first opportunity he had had during the repairs.

Gomez shook his head. "Has anyone ever told you you're a touch paranoid?"

More than a few, thought Malcolm. Instead, he said, "I prefer to call myself a realist."

"Doesn't that make life... worrisome?"

"It's kept me alive. And my ship safe." On the whole. He had done his best. But there were those they'd lost, out there in the Expanse. One's best wasn't always good enough. Malcolm dragged his thoughts from that path. He knew where it would lead and he didn't want to go there, especially sitting next to Gomez. Hastily, he looked away, returning to his stargazing.

"Any plans for your share?" asked Gomez after a few minutes.

"Huh?" Malcolm broke his unseeing stare from the window. "Share?" he repeated stupidly.

"Of the salvage. I think we'd do best getting a few of the traders from the Inolga system to bid on it." Gomez waved his PADD around. "I've been doing some calculations. We should do well out of it."

"I have a share?" said Malcolm, surprised. He was only on temporary contract and for specific duties. He hadn't thought the salvage would have anything to do with him.

"Of course. One portion for the Mariposa, a larger one for me as skipper - which taken together work out to one half in total for me - then the other half split between you and Mot, 75 per cent in favour of Mot. So you'll get one eighth."

"Oh." Malcolm was none the wiser.

"One eighth might not sound like much, but believe me, whatever this Baby turns out to be, the hull material alone will bring in a lot of interest. And who knows what's inside it."

"Umm. Shouldn't we tell Starfleet?"

"Why? So they can stomp around and insist they know best?"

"It could be important."

"They'll want to take it away for examination. We'd never get our money."

Malcolm considered that point. Gomez was probably right. However, there were wider considerations here. He said firmly, "Starfleet should be told. There are all sorts of things going on that we have no idea about." Something nagged at the back of his mind. "Isn't there some sort of compensation scheme?"

Gomez gave a derisive laugh. "There is, but it'll only give us a fraction of what we could get elsewhere. Usually, no one bothers to tell them."

"Usually! Is this commonplace?" Malcolm was shocked.

"No, not exactly. But it isn't extremely rare, either, to come across an alien artefact." Gomez grinned. "Look, what Starfleet doesn't know won't hurt them."

Malcolm bit his lip. This was pure irresponsibility. Every piece of information gathered by Starfleet could prove crucial. He didn't like Gomez' plan one little bit.

Gomez gave him a mocking salute. "Coffee, sir?" He picked up the coffee pot.

Malcolm shook his head irritably, annoyed by Gomez' dig at him. "Is this why you're offering me a share, so I'll go along with whatever you want to do?"

Gomez poured from the coffee pot. "To tell the truth, I never even thought this would be an issue. As I said, that's the way we handle things around here. You are entitled to a share through custom and practice. And I'm honourable enough to follow that. It might be legally enforceable, anyway - I don't know."

Malcolm frowned. "I don't like this. We should tell Starfleet."

Gomez threw his hands up. "Enough! What is the matter with you? It isn't your call anyway. It's mine, then Mot's."

"If Mot agreed with me, wouldn't it be two to one?"

"No. I've explained. You two together will get half, which means you have half the say. But I have the deciding vote. That's academic, though. I can guarantee Mot wants all the money he can get."

Malcolm scowled at Gomez. "Why are you so certain about that? He might want to follow regulations."

Gomez gave a scornful laugh at that unlikely idea. "He won't. As I said, I can guarantee it."

Malcolm's mind was spinning as he tried to resolve the conflict. It seemed that Gomez was determined to follow this course. How important was it, really, to inform Starfleet? He didn't want to be disloyal to Gomez, whose friendship he valued. And it wouldn't do his business any good, either, if the other miners thought he couldn't be trusted. Was there another approach? Perhaps he could take scans before sending it for scrap, if they could get inside the hull, and then send the results to Starfleet? Was that a workable compromise?

Gomez drank his coffee, watching Malcolm's obvious turmoil. He said slyly, "Perhaps you should rejoin Starfleet. Plenty of regs there for you."

Malcolm snorted irritably. "Regulations aren't always a bad thing, you know. But no - I don't want to return to Starfleet."

"Hmm. Is there more to this?"

"What?" said Malcolm, not understanding him.

Gomez took a sip of his drink, then said offhandedly, "I hope you are not going to keep us awake all night."

Malcolm frowned. Now what was he getting at? "Sorry?"

"Well, I guess that Baby might give you the jitters."

Malcolm flushed as he placed the reference, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. He didn't deign to reply - merely gave Gomez the filthiest look he could muster.

"Is that why you were chucked out of Starfleet, then?" continued Gomez, in a conversational tone.

Malcolm's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "I beg your pardon!" he said. Gomez' needling manner had completely thrown him. He had thought he had come to an understanding with the man, even begun to regard him as a friend, but this was... disconcerting. It was like the past year had never happened and he was back at day one with Gomez.

Gomez smiled thinly. "I was just wondering, that's all. Nerves shot, were they? Unable to cope with the pressures? Cracked?"

That did it.

Malcolm snapped out forcefully, "It is none of your business, but for your information, I resigned - and at the top of my game. What's the matter, Gomez? Don't like to be told the truth? That all our work might end in tears when Baby turns out to be a booby trap. When you lose your precious ship?"

"You're a worrier, paranoid," Gomez sneered.

"So I've been told before, many times, but - as I told you - I'm still alive and I kept my ship in one piece. And what's more, it was no sinecure."

"What ship would that be?" The tone was disdainful, implying it must have been second-rate.

Stung, Malcolm said tightly, "That would be none of your damn business, either." He was ready to let rip and trying his utmost to keep a lid on it. He did not want to lose his self-control. He daren't risk it.

Gomez studied him for a long moment. Then he dropped his head. When he raised it again to meet Malcolm's hard expression, his face had softened. The contemptuous glint in his eyes had disappeared. He leaned forward and clapped Malcolm on the arm.

Malcolm stiffened in suspicion, fighting the compulsion to move this confrontation from talk to action.

Gomez said seriously, "I apologise. You're right. It is none of my concern. I'm sorry to have got after you like that, but I needed to be sure."

"Sure of what?" asked Malcolm, still wary.

"Sure that you can handle yourself. If you get into trouble, that you can get out again - not have a nervous breakdown."

Malcolm made an incredulous sound. This was unbelievable! "Why not just ask me?"

"I needed the truth. I think you gave me that."

"I did, but I would have done anyway. That was unnecessary." Malcolm paused. "What kind of trouble are you expecting?"

"None imminently, but I have a favour to ask. Well, perhaps, more of a proposition." Gomez settled forward in his seat, getting ready for a discussion.

Malcolm didn't feel inclined to grant any favours to Gomez. He was incredibly angry with the man. How dare he deliberately goad him like that when a simple question would have done? "Not now," he ground out. He got to his feet. "I'll try to keep my demons away from you, Gomez. Wouldn't want to frighten you, would I?"

He made off down the corridor to his quarters, realising that they were in actuality some distance from Gomez' anyway. He'd never considered that before.

TBC