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"So, what do you make of it? Any weapons' signatures on the hull?" Tucker asked as he slowly walked around the ship, scanner in hand.
"None. This ship most definitely crashed because of a malfunction," Malcolm replied.
The vessel was not big. It came to maybe twice the length of their shuttlepods but measured about the same in height, which gave it a rather flattened appearance.
"Have you dated it, Commander?" Malcolm asked, switching to professional mode.
"Doin' it right now," Trip answered, his gaze concentrated on the scanner. He whistled in surprise making Malcolm turn to him.
"This baby is about one hundred and thirty years' old," the engineer exclaimed. "Whoever crashed it is long gone."
He got out his communicator and hailed Enterprise. "Tucker to Enterprise."
"Go ahead, Commander," Archer answered.
"We've reached the ship, Capt'n. Looks like it was an accident and that it happened a hell of a long time ago. My readings show the vessel is 130 years old."
"Can you go inside it?" the Captain enquired.
"We'll try, although I can see that we were beaten to it by the vegetation; there are a couple of large breaches in the hull at bow. I'll keep you posted. Tucker out."
"Commander, I seriously doubt we'll be able to gain access through those breaches," Reed commented, shaking his head. "They're almost completely obstructed by plants."
"I wasn't planning on doin' that," Trip grinned, "We'll enter in style, Lieutenant, through the front door. There is the hatch."
He put his backpack down on the ground, opened it and took out some tools. Twenty minutes later he and Malcolm were peeking inside the dark interior of the alien vessel.
The plants had wound their way inside the ship making the space cramped. Malcolm crawled in, phase pistol in one hand, scanner in the other, while the engineer swept the vessel with his flashlight. After a few minutes he turned to Trip and nodded. The engineer climbed on board.
Where the cockpit had been was now an inextricable tangle of plants. The thick vegetation had even taken root in the consoles, making any data retrieval a lost cause. The back of the ship, instead, was somewhat freer, and that is where the two officers headed.
"Strange that there should be no biological remains at all," Malcolm wondered aloud, as he put away his phase pistol and switched on his own torch. "Even if this ship crashed a hundred years ago and the bodies decomposed, our scanners ought to pick up traces of them."
"Maybe they got transported out," Trip suggested with a shrug of his shoulders.
"That hatch," Malcolm said after a minute, pointing to a spot on the floor, "Probably led down to where the engine room was. The impact, however, was certainly violent enough that it was crushed completely," he commented wryly, as he tried rather unsuccessfully to wipe sweat out of his eyes with a wet sleeve.
"Better believe it. Flattened it like a pancake," Trip concurred grimly. "This ship looks more like a small transport vessel than a warship or anything else." He added, "It was probably manned by no more than four or five people."
Malcolm nodded. They went quietly about taking scans for a few minutes; then Reed said, "I'm afraid there isn't much here left for us to…"
"Hey, what's that?" Trip interrupted him. He took a few quick steps to the far back and raised his flashlight on a button. It had caught his attention because it was gleaming in the semi-darkness like a cat's eye.
The commander raised his hand to it. Immediately, with a sound of screeching metal, a grid made of what looked like iron bars fell from above, entrapping him in a narrow space at the back of the ship.
"What the hell!" Tucker exclaimed, jumping in alarm.
In a couple of strides Reed was there, pointing his flashlight on Tucker. "Are you all right?" he asked in concern.
"Yeah, yeah," Trip muttered, "I must have touched the only mechanical thing that still functions on this damn ship!" he added irritably.
Relieved that his friend was not injured, Malcolm quipped, "You didn't have to go to such lengths to avoid sharing Enterprise's brig with me, Commander!"
Trip scowled. "I wouldn't joke about it if I were you; we might still end up in there if I don't manage to get outta here."
"There must be a command button to undo what the first one did," Malcolm reasoned.
With a groan, Trip shone the flashlight around, but could find nothing.
"I can't see any," he informed the lieutenant, who was scanning the grid.
"These bars are made of an alloy we've never come across," Malcolm remarked pensively. "What about the cat's eye?" he then enquired. "Could it trigger the thing open again, do you think?"
"Hmm, we'll never know unless I try it," Trip answered philosophically. He pushed and fingered the button, but nothing happened. "Damn!" he cursed, leaning against the wall wiping his sweaty brow.
Malcolm studied him and murmured, "Let me get us some water. We are both sweating and dehydration certainly isn't going to help us think."
A moment later he passed a canteen to his friend through the bars. Trip took a few long, avid gulps of liquid. "Thanks," he said gratefully.
Then, after a pause, he added, "Come on, Lieutenant, we can't let TUSAM score."
Reed chuckled. "The bastard seems really determined to catch up with us," he commented, putting down his own canteen and wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
"Let's see if we can raise the barrier at all," Trip suggested. Malcolm nodded.
They grabbed the bars firmly with both hands.
"Now!" Trip ordered. But much as they hauled, the thing would not budge.
"We'll never manage this way," Malcolm panted, leaning his forearms on the grid.
Trip groaned in frustration. This is absurd, he mulled, there must be a way to…
Suddenly he froze. He had been moving the flashlight around, checking the corners of his confined space, when the light revealed a sight that sent a shiver down his spine. No more than a metre to his right was a huge insect nest swarming with thousands of crawling creatures the size of big ants. The light seemed to disturb them and they scattered away rapidly in all directions.
"Malcolm," he started in a shaky voice.
"I've seen them, Commander," Reed replied in a low tone. He moved his torch slowly across the floor of Trip's cell, revealing more insects scuttling to escape the light.
"Dammit, get me outta this cage right now!" Tucker urged, panic rising in his voice as he retreated to the opposite corner.
How the hell am I going to do that? Reed wondered, striving not to get affected by Trip's mounting anxiety.He couldn't just shoot thousands of blighted insects. Keep cool under pressure, he reminded himself as he studied the situation.
"Breathe deeply, it helps keep panic under control," he advised, his voice calm and collected.
"Oh, really?" he heard Trip reply with a hint of sarcasm, "And what does 'Lieutenant Courage' know about panic?"
"You'd be surprised," Malcolm mumbled, momentarily distracted from the problem at hand. Then he shut everything out and let his racing mind work.
Soon a plan of some intelligence began to form: if you can't defeat the enemy, withdraw. His pistol may be of no use against so many insects, but there was a chance the beam might cut through the bars.
"I'm going to try and cut the bars with the phase pistol," Reed stated with determination. "Give me some light, Commander."
Trip promptly obeyed, trying to keep his mind off the picture of the creepy bugs spreading out in all directions – surely some must be crawling around his feet right now.
"Stand back, I'm setting the pistol to a rather high yield," Malcolm warned him.
Reed aimed the weapon and pulled the trigger, and a familiar orange beam shone through the air. The lieutenant kept it focused on the bars for a few moments, then cut off the power and went to check the results.
"It's definitely doing something. Maximum yield might just do the job. Don't move."
"You don't need to worry about that," Trip commented in a tense voice.
Malcolm changed setting on his pistol and directed the powerful beam on the bars again. After a few moments they began to turn red hot and wisps of acrid smoke rose in the air. Reed clenched his jaw and moved the pistol slowly down in a straight line.
Soon the place was filling with smoke, and Trip began to cough. "Cut that off, Malcolm," he managed between fits, "Stuff's chokin' me!"
Reed lowered his pistol. He too was coughing now, his mouth and nose in the crook of one arm. The lieutenant walked up to the grid and gave it a hard kick. Some of the junctions broke off, much to his relief.
"It's working, but if I am to cut an opening I'm afraid we'll have to stand some more of that smoke," Reed choked out.
Trip just nodded jerkily.
The armoury officer stood back and a moment later the hot beam was focused on the grid again.
Trip was closer to the source of the smoke and it didn't take long for the commander to begin coughing again, violently. Malcolm, a little further away, was stoically suppressing his own urge to do the same, determined to keep his aim steady. His eyes were watering and his vision began to blur, but he gritted his teeth and kept going. Just a little more…
After what seemed like ages, he finally lowered his weapon, doubled over and allowed himself to surrender to the tickling and burning in his throat. But worrisome choking noises from behind the grid made him spring up again and stagger forward.
The lieutenant kicked the grid furiously and a few more junctions came apart. Too bloody slowly, he silently cursed, feeling for the second time in that blasted day a lack of oxygen in his lungs.
"Why don't you make yourself useful for once and help me get this off!" Reed croaked out. He immediately regretted his angered tone: Trip seemed unable to catch his breath and he saw him push off the wall with a visible effort.
"Don't touch it with your hands," Malcolm rasped in warning, "Just help me kick it off."
Under the force of both their strikes the piece of grid finally gave out and Tucker quickly staggered through the opening, coughing uncontrollably. Reed wasted no time in following him and a moment later they were in the open air.
Malcolm leaned against the ship to catch his breath and checked Trip over. The engineer stood not far away, his eyes closed and his hands braced on his knees, and was trying to bring his fits under control. What Reed saw made him cringe.
"Trip, your legs!" he cried out.
Trip's eyes flew open and widened in horror: his trousers were covered with insects. He shot up from his bent over position, but before he had even the time to scream, Malcolm was beating his lower body with a large, palm-like branch, shaking the ant-like creatures off him.
"I do not detect any biosigns bigger than an insect near them, Captain," T'Pol said.
"Still, you did detect phaser fire," Archer insisted.
"I did," T'Pol simply confirmed, raising an eyebrow.
"It's probably nothing," Archer stated. "A phase pistol can be used for many things, like that time I warmed up some stones to boil water in the desert."
"I hope you don't intend to write in your report that I beat a superior officer," Reed joked, grateful for the pure air that finally filled his lungs to capacity.
It had taken some doing, but in the end the enemy had been pushed back. To their relief the insects had not seemed of a dangerous kind, for Trip had not complained of any bites or stings.
"Are you suggesting that I should leave things out of my report, Lieutenant? That I should lie?" Trip answered in mock outrage.
The rush of adrenaline had left them both exhausted, and they had collapsed onto the grass, glad to allow themselves a rest.
"I believe that's not how an officer at his best, let alone a gentleman, is supposed to behave," the engineer continued, teasing his by-the-book friend.
Malcolm shook his head in amusement. Just then Trip's communicator came alive.
The engineer rolled his eyes and sighed. "Mom is checking on us again." He flipped open his communicator. "Tucker."
"Commander," Archer's voice said, "We detected a phase pistol in action again. Anything we should worry about?"
"Nope, we're both alive and well, Capt'n. Lieutenant Reed was just cutting through some… sort of grid," Trip replied with a conniving glance at Malcolm. Then he enquired candidly, "Do I detect a note of concern in your voice? Don't tell me that you don't trust us to come back from this mission in one piece!"
"Just checking, Commander," Archer replied in his Captain voice, ignoring Trip's teasing. "Have you found anything of interest inside that ship?"
"Not really. We've taken quite a few scans, though. Oughtta give us some clues."
"Are you ready to head back, then?" Archer enquired.
"Aye, Sir. We have a bit of a climb ahead of us; should be at the shuttlepod in about one and a half hours," Tucker calculated.
"Hail us when you get there, Commander. Archer out."
The engineer flipped his communicator shut.
Malcolm was preparing to get up when he caught Trip's uncomfortable gaze on him. "Is something wrong?" he enquired, frowning.
Tucker paused and then replied, with a grimace, "I suppose I could've used a bit more caution. Sorry, Lieutenant."
"Apology accepted, Commander," Reed reassured him, with a good-natured smirk. Then he suggested, "You know, those insects were probably more scared of you than you were of them."
"I've always hated reptiles and bugs," Trip shuddered.
Malcolm contemplated Trip's comment. "Why, Trip, I rather thought those two classes of creatures would make a Floridian feel at home," he remarked with a chuckle.
"Getting' back at me, huh? Alright, fair enough," Tucker commented, patting his friend's shoulder. "Come on," he added, getting up, "Can't wait till I'm on Enterprise, under a hot shower."
Trip went to put his tools inside his pack. Then the two men shouldered their loads and, with a last look at the wrecked vessel, started on their way back.
"Trip, you're taking the wrong direction," Malcolm said, with an odd look at his friend.
"Nope," the engineer replied, "We're walking around the marshland this time."
"There is no reason to do that, Commander," Reed commented. "You said it yourself, walking around it makes it a lot longer."
"Not by much, if we cut across from here and then take a diagonal route back to the shuttlepod," Trip retorted.
"I can wade across the bloody lake," Malcolm insisted, unable to keep a hurt note from his voice.
Trip regarded him curiously. "I know you can, but we are both real tired and I don't want to risk another accident," he patiently explained.
"If we use the scanner there is no danger of…"
"Look, Lieutenant," Tucker interrupted, stopping and turning to face Reed squarely, "We are walking around the damn lake and that's an order."
Malcolm clenched his teeth and held his CO's gaze with steely eyes. "Aye, Sir," he replied coolly.
Trip scowled at him. Then, as he so often did, allowed his features to relax.
"Ah, come on Mal!" he said shaking his head, "We're up 3-0 against TUSAM, and neither of us got as much as a damn scratch!"
Malcolm sighed, his own anger vanished. "Fine, Trip. But I hope you are aware that from a statistical point of view we'd be much safer crossing the lake again."
TBC