555

"That looks rather steep," Reed commented thoughtfully.

They had come to the point of their journey where they were going to have and climb back up to the top of the valley. But their change of route meant that they were now facing a barren gorge, scattered with big boulders and loose rocks.

Trip studied the craggy incline. It would be tiring but not impossible.

"That time with those Denobulan scientists we managed some rather difficult climbin'," he replied, sounding determined. "In comparison this looks like nothin' more than a rough hike." He smiled encouragingly. "Piece of cake."

Malcolm did not answer immediately. He tilted his head, pensively; then he unloaded his pack and reached inside it to get a nutrient bar, which he waved before his friend.

"A piece of pineapple cake would be very welcome now. I don't know about you, Commander, but my stomach has been pestering me for the past half hour. If you expect me to have the energy to get to the top of that," he said jerking his head in the direction of the gorge, "I'll have to eat something first."

Trip followed suit and put down his pack. "You know, Lieutenant, you do manage sometimes to come up with a few ideas worthy of consideration."

"Do you mind if I take the lead?" the engineer asked a few moments later, as they were consuming their meagre but nutritious meal.

Malcolm considered the question. "I suppose not," he replied, "I'm no expert when it comes to climbing; as for security, it shouldn't make any difference whether I go first or last. Out in the open threats can come from all sides."

Trip bit his lip, refraining from teasing his friend over his proverbial 'paranoid way of thinking'. At the beginning of their mission he had done that a lot, but things had changed. Reed had saved their day on a few too many occasions, and now when he pulled Malcolm's leg over his seemingly exaggerated caution he did it more to keep a well-established joke going than for anything else.

Soon they were shouldering their backpacks again and ready to tackle the climb.

"Bloody humidity!" Malcolm cursed under his breath, wiping a dirty hand across his brow as he gained yet another metre of altitude. Everything was seeped in it making the earthy ground and rocks muddy and slippery.

The climb was proving quite strenuous and more difficult than they had anticipated, requiring them to use their hands for balance. Trip glanced over his shoulder. He could not remember ever seeing Malcolm so dirty and dishevelled and he knew just how much this rubbed his friend the wrong way.

"Do you reckon that if Hoshi saw us now she would still say that men in uniform are attractive?" he bantered, trying to lighten Reed's mood.

"Uniform?" Malcolm snorted, between ragged breaths, "What uniform? I wasn't aware I was wearing a uniform, I thought it was a mud cast," he commented wryly.

Trip chuckled. A thin mist had risen, giving an eerie look to their surroundings and preventing them from seeing clearly beyond a certain distance.

"Just a few more metres, as far as I can tell," Tucker informed him.

"Never too few," Reed grunted. He paused and tried to wipe sweat out of his eyes with a dirty sleeve, swearing when he realised the stupidity of his action.

"I know now why you wanted to take the lead, Commander," he called out. "I'm literally getting covered with the dirt your boots dislodge."

"Sorry." Trip sounded sincerely apologetic. "If you want, you're welcome to…"

"What's that noise?" Reed said, interrupting him.

They both fell silent and turned their heads towards the top of the hill, where a drumming sound was distinctly getting louder. Before they knew it, one, ten, fifty shadows were emerging out of the mist, running headlong towards them.

"Get out of the way!" Trip bellowed, and both began to scamper to try and get to the edge of the ravine, slipping and sliding perilously in the effort. In a moment dozens of four-legged, furry creatures the size of overgrown rabbits were upon them, stampeding along.

"Too late!" Malcolm shouted, and flattened himself against the ground, his arms over his head to protect it. He felt paws press on his back and silently prayed Let's hope none of the damn things have hooves! They were not very big, but there was an awful lot of them.

Reed risked a side glance towards his friend and saw that Trip was still trying to reach the edge of the gorge. "Trip, don't!" he cried out. He saw a few creatures swerve abruptly to avoid him, but then the wave was too much and they collided into the engineer throwing him off balance. In horror, Malcolm saw Trip lose his footing and begin to slide.

Rolling down a rocky gorge in the middle of a stampede is not a good way to keep out of sickbay, he thought in concern. He threw out one arm and managed to get a strong grip on his friend's. He felt a pulling jolt on his shoulder and flung out his other arm in search of something to grab hold of. He found what felt like solid rock; gratefully, his feet were also firmly anchored and held their ground.

After a moment the engineer managed to regain some footing of his own, and they remained like that, flat against the ground, their faces in the dirt, riding out the wild wave of running creatures for what seemed like ages. Finally the drumming noise subsided and silence gradually returned.

"What the hell was that?" Trip exclaimed hoarsely.

"Are you alright?" Reed enquired after a moment.

"Yeah, all in one piece, apparently," Trip replied, his voice wavering slightly.

"Are you certain?" Malcolm insisted, hearing the note of hesitation in his friend's voice.

Tucker paused, then smiled. "Uhm, yeah, although I might develop an ugly bruise if you don't let go of my arm, Lieutenant: has no one ever told you that you have a vice-like grip?"

Malcolm realised that he was still clasping Trip's arm with crushing strength and immediately released him.

"Not that I didn't appreciate it," Trip hastened to add. "If it weren't for you I'd be a crumpled pile a bones at the bottom of the hill."

There was a moment of silence as Malcolm regarded Trip with narrowed eyes.

"Come on, say it, Commander," he prompted.

Trip was puzzled. "What?"

"That you are sorry you insisted on coming this way," Reed replied sternly.

Wouldn't you know it? Trip just gave him one of his winning smiles and a shrug. "Aw, fine! If it makes you happy, Lieutenant: I'm sorry I insisted on comin' this way!"

Reed shook his head. This man in front of him couldn't be any more different from himself. "Right. Well, now at least we're even, as far as apologies go," he smirked.

"Away Team 4-TUSAM 0," Tucker commented cheerfully. "Not bad, the Capt'n will be impressed."

"We still have to get to the shuttlepod and fly back to Enterprise, Commander. Don't count your chickens before they are hatched," Reed cautioned.

"Well, what are we waitin' for, then?" Trip replied. "Let's get goin' while our luck still holds!"

"Goodness gracious, you're a mess!" Archer couldn't refrain from exclaiming as he set eyes on his officers. He had come to meet them in the launchbay with T'Pol and had not expected the sorry sight that was before him.

Malcolm and Trip shot an appraising glance at each other. They looked disgusting and smelled even worse.

Trip noticed O'Rourke's look of disbelief as the ensign skirted well away from them on his way to the shuttlepod for post-flight check; and T'Pol wrinkled her sensitive nose. He felt truly sorry for her.

"Nothing that a long, hot shower cannot remedy," he said with a wide smile that cracked the dry mud mask on his face. "The good news, Capt'n, is that we have come back unscathed."

"That is news!" Archer replied with a chuckle. "I guess the brig will have to wait, then."

"Welcome back, Commander, Lieutenant," T'Pol managed to say. "It is agreeable to… know that your mission was successful."

"I thought you were gonna say 'agreeable to see us', Subcommander. But I reckon we aren't the prettiest sight right now," Trip couldn't help teasing. T'Pol just latched her hands behind her back and ignored the gibe.

"Well, I don't know how much of a success our mission actually was," the engineer continued, as they headed towards decon. "We couldn't salvage any data. Let's hope our scans shed a bit of light on the mystery of that ship."

"It is possible that they will," the Vulcan calmly replied, keeping a safe distance from the reeking officers. "Although we will not know until we examine them."

"Talk about statin' the obvious," Trip laughed.

Archer shot him a reproachful glance. Then he saw Reed scratch his neck. The usually pristine Armoury Officer looked so uncomfortable under a thick layer of grime that the Captain took pity on him.

"The sooner you get through decon, the sooner you'll be under a shower," he said in the way of a dismissal. Then he added, with a mischievous grin, "Too bad I didn't bring a camera: Lieutenant Malcolm Reed this filthy really deserved to be immortalised."

"With all due respect, Sir, then I would have had to retrieve all evidence to destroy it," Reed replied, only half joking.

Archer chuckled. "You did a good job, gentlemen. Your shift is just about finished, so why don't you take a good rest."

"Thank you, Sir," they both replied.

Fifteen minutes later a delighted Phlox was giving them a green light. With a sigh of relief the two officers stood up to leave.

"Uhm Trip," Malcolm said seeing his friend head in the wrong direction. "That's the door leading to the launchbay."

"Ah, I just forgot something in the shuttlepod," Trip replied dismissively. "Don't wait for me, Mal, I'm sure you're eager to regain a more human aspect," he concluded with a wink.

Reed groaned. "I certainly am! See you, then." And he went off the other way, towards the sanctuary of his quarters.

Trip came out of the longest shower he'd taken in ages feeling reborn. He didn't really mind getting dirty – he was bit like a child for that – and his team had got quite accustomed to seeing their CO covered with smudges when he was in the thick of something in engineering. But he also truly enjoyed washing out the dirt and feeling clean again.

He dried off and hesitated for a moment in front of his wardrobe. The Capt'n told us to rest but perhaps I should check on my engine before goin' to bed… Then his body reminded him that it had been a long and tiring day, so he got out shorts and a T-shirt. They'll contact me if anythin' needs my delicate touch, let's get a well-deserved good night's sleep, he decided, slipping them on.

He sat in his chair and bent over to open the backpack he had previously retrieved from the pod. He rummaged in it and got out a brightly coloured Hawaiian shirt. Regarding it with a smile of satisfaction, he gave it a light shake, which did nothing to improve its now greatly wrinkled appearance, and threw it on the desk.

No amount of strategic thinking may overcome the odds against us, Lieutenant, but my lucky charm managed just that, he thought smugly. TUSAM was finally, completely and officially defeated, the rat!

A yawn took him by surprise. Uhm, I guess I'm more wiped than I thought.

He let himself drop on the bed and ordered the lights off.

Malcolm came out of the longest shower he'd taken in ages feeling reborn. Getting dirty unsettled him to the very core – it always had, ever since he was a child – and his team had got quite accustomed to the fact that even in the thick of battle their CO would be spotless, if he could at all help it. Washing out the dirt and feeling clean again made him feel almost euphoric.

He dried off and hesitated for a moment in front of his wardrobe. The Captain told us to rest but perhaps I should drop by the armoury before turning in… Then his body reminded him that it had been a long and tiring day, so he got out shorts and a T-shirt. They'll contact me if anything needs my supervision, let's get a few hours of well-deserved rest, he decided, slipping them on.

He sat in his chair and leaned over to reach for his filthy uniform that lay crumpled in a corner on the floor. He picked it up with two fingers, keeping it at arm's length, and before dropping it into the laundry container, unzipped a pocket and retrieved a small, ordinary-looking stone from it. He regarded it for a moment, turning it in his fingers; then with a smirk, threw it inside a drawer.

Not that I believe in lucky charms, he reminded himself as he closed the drawer, but who knows… that stone might just have managed what no amount of strategic thinking ever could. I wish I could remember the name of the girl who gave it to me in elementary school. Well, lucky charm or not, TUSAM was finally, completely and officially defeated, the sod.

A yawn took him by surprise. Uhm, I suppose I could call it a day.

He let himself drop on the bed and ordered the lights off.

TBC

What... no sickbay?... Hm... :-)