000 Disclaimer, as per, I own nothing 000 Thanks for all the reviews! I feel loved! ok, this is going to be theonly update for about two or three weeks as I'm off to the sunny shores of scarborough on holiday :D. So thanks go to: The Libran Iniquity (Heh heh heh,ramble away my friend), Roaring Mice (Oh God! I hope I don't disappoint with this then!), Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain (Iwouldn't have expected anything less :P I wonder if you'll figure it out:P), Gabi2305 (Ah don't hurt me! See, an update!), The One Forgotten (The wife is revealed-not that it helps much of course :P), Jacobed Rose, Buggles586, Goddess Anjanee, for reviewing the first chapter:D Well, enjoy and remember don't assume that you know anything from what you were told in Little Britain 000

Malcolm silently crept out his quarters early next morning leaving his wife fast asleep on the bed.

Nodding in greeting to those he passed he wandered down to the mess hall. Checking his watch he suddenly doubled his pace and moments later arrived outside the Captain's mess.

The door opened just as he was about to press the chime. The Captain grinned cheerfully. "Morning!"

"I hate it when you do that," Malcolm complained offering the Captain a good-natured smile. "It's very disconcerting."

"It's not hard," the Captain shrugged. "You arrive at the same time every morning. It's all in the timing."

Malcolm sat down. "Only because I know that if I dare turn up late you will never stop reminding me till the day I die about the one time I was late for breakfast."

Trip grinned and watched as one of galley staff brought in the food. "So, no Emma this morning?"

"She's sleeping," Malcolm replied carefully spreading peanut butter on his pancakes.

Trip suddenly yawned, he yawned so wide that it looked to Malcolm like he was trying to swallow the entire table. Irritatingly enough the yawn seemed to be contagious and Malcolm found his mouth stretching open mere seconds later.

"I didn't sleep well last night," Trip admitted. He took a generous gulp of coffee. "I was dreaming about that godforsaken planet again."

Malcolm sighed. "We are due to pass over it any second."

Right on cue the comm. beeped. "Bridge to Captain Tucker."

Trip reached over and tapped it. "Tucker here."

"Captain, we're receiving a distress call from The Planet."

Malcolm froze, his fork hanging suspended over his pancakes. They had arrived at the planet. Not any old planet. The Planet.

Malcolm woke with a jerk. Hands were roaming all over his battered and bruised body, unnaturally cold hands that were probing every wound. His mind went on fast forward as he remembered the shuttle crash in all its technicolour glory.

Malcolm jerked out his memory as Trip finally responded to the Bridge Crew.

"I'll be right there," said Trip, glancing across at Malcolm. "Tucker out."

Trip turned back to the table and downed the rest of his coffee. Then, wordlessly, they both rose and headed for the bridge.

Malcolm took the tactical station while Trip got to up speed on events.

The Planet, The Planet that had haunted Malcolm's dreams for months after the shuttle crash and ever since he'd found out they were passing by again. The Planet he and Trip had been pulled from, barely alive, looking like the slowest runners in a horror film.

The Planet he knew was inhabited, The Planet that taunted him and made him and Trip appear like fools to Starfleet.

Sure, Starfleet couldn't deny that two sets of identical injuries couldn't have resulted from the shuttlepod crash, but Starfleet could deny that the officers had been taken, for no scans found any sign of buildings, biosigns, nearby ships or warp trails less than two days old. The incident was duly ignored and Trip and Malcolm were told to forget about it (to paraphrase a dull and lengthy speech).

Malcolm hurriedly started running scans. He couldn't believe it as the results came in.

Trip stared at his friend. "Well?"

An odd look passed over Malcolm's face. "We were right."

Trip turned to the comm. officer. "Any response from The Planet?"

She shook her head. "I've tried all frequencies but they aren't responding."

"I'm not able to detect any bio signs, Captain," said Lieutenant Joseph Walters from the science console. "Our scanners can't penetrate the building."

"But there is definitely a building down there," Malcolm added more to reassure himself than anything. "An extremely large building."

Trip's breathing increased. The woman stood up, her hands nervously smoothing the bloody uniform.

"They'll see," she whispered fearfully. "You'll end up like Iona. They'll see. They're watching, always watching."

She suddenly darted forward and hesitantly grabbed hold of Trip's head. "Keep breathing," she whispered. "Keep breathing, they'll kill me if you stop. They'll kill me. Keep breathing. Keep breathing."

Trip's eyes widened further and he tried to speak, but the only sound that issued from his mouth was an illegible croak. She patted his head awkwardly.

"Just keep breathing," she said. "I'm your Angel. Do as I say, keep breathing."

Her head snapped round to look up at an object in the corner of the room. "Just keep breathing."

Trip gradually managed to quell his rising panic and his breathing resumed a near enough, normal rhythm. His eyes stung as his gaze flickered from one object to the next, finally resting on the occupant of the bed next to him.

His eyes took in every detail of the eerily pale skin that looked like it had been stretched over a skeleton. The eyes were closed and the lips stood out in stark contrast to the white skin. There were several tubes inserted into one arm and restraints held him securely in place. He was as naked as the day he was born.

But there was no doubting who it was.

It was Malcolm Reed.

Trip seemed to be studying the picture on the viewscreen. Malcolm stared down at the results on his console an almost gleeful expression on his face being barely concealed by a mask of absolute proffessionalism.

"Are you sure you can't hail them?" Trip asked finally.

Ensign Lily Chambers nudged several buttons on her console and paused a moment. "No, sir, there's no response, just the distress call playing over and over."

"Lets hear it then." Trip gestured to Chambers console. She nodded and pressed something.

The message was chilling. A female voice repeated over and over. "Help us! Help us! We're under attack! Help us! They're everywhere! We can't hold this complex any longer! He-" The final word was always cut short and a lingering scream of agony sounded across the bridge.

Trip made a stopping gesture and the last scream was blissfully cut short. "Are there any ships nearby?"

Malcolm's head shot up in surprise, surely Trip wasn't going to leave? Not when they were so close to having real, tangible proof that they had indeed been captured by unknown hostiles on the planet six years beforehand.

"No, there's no one nearby," Walters replied carefully.

Trip nodded. "Malcolm, Lily, Joe, meet me in the shuttlebay, we're going to see if we can help. Baker you have the bridge."

"Captain," Malcolm called.

Trip sighed and slowly turned to face Malcolm."We're just answering a distress call, Malcolm."

"Yes, from The Planet," Malcolm reminded him. Another memory sprang to mind and he remembered the white hot pain that had lanced through his stomach. It seemed Trip remembered as well for his hand rose and Trip subconsciously rubbed his stomach.

Looking down, Malcolm found he was doing the same thing. He was rubbing an old scar, a scar six years old that showed no sign of fading. He yanked his hand away and rested it on his console.

The rest of theBridge Crew watched the exchanged with interest, it was common knowledge that the two senior officers had served together for years. They were prone to moments of just staring at each other or saying incomplete sentences that meant nothing to everyone else but obviously meant something to each other.

"Just a distress call," Trip repeated stepping into the turbo-lift. Malcolm scowled. The Bridge Crew quickly looked away.

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