000Disclaimer, I own nothing and the people who do should be ashamed of reckless discarding them 000 Huge thanks for all the reviews! It was a lovely thing to come back off holiday too! So huge thanks to everyone that reviewed this! Here's hoping I don't disappoint.000

The woman stared down at him, chewing her lip nervously; she released his head and glanced back at the object on the wall. A soft sigh escaped her and she smoothed down her bloody uniform once more.

Trip tore his eyes away from Malcolm and they swivelled round to rest on the woman. He tried to force his uncooperative muscles to move but only succeeded in briefly twitching his pathetically limp fingers.

The woman moved back to her previous seat, examining the monitors. "It's a malfunction, not my fault," she wailed suddenly. "They can't take that out on me! I'm an Angel not an Engineer!"

Trip glanced around the room once more, taking careful effort not to look at Malcolm again. He felt disorientated and confused, one minute he had been in engineering talking with Hess, the next he'd found himself falling into nothing before waking in this strange room.

Suddenly a harsh, high pitched whine of an alarm sounded from where Malcolm was laying. Trip's head lolled to face Malcolm. Behind him the woman released a scream of pure anguish and terror. His eyes widened as he watched his friend in the throes of a seizure, the restraints holding him to the bed barely managing to keep Malcolm in place.

His vocal chords, though rusty and unused were coaxed into croaking two words. "Help him."

Malcolm carefully and meticulously ran checks on the four phase pistols in front of him before deeming them satisfactory for the mission ahead. He strode from the armoury and handed one to each officer.

Trip came out of the shuttlepod and accepted the phase pistol from Malcolm. He waited for Lieutenant Walters and Ensign Chambers to climb in before catching hold of Malcolm.

"We're answering a distress call," said Trip staring straight into Malcolm's eyes. "This isn't about what happened to us."

"I'm fully aware of the mission, Captain," Malcolm replied evenly. "But I'm less inclined to forget about the possible hostility of the people we're helping." He motioned to his stomach. "For all we know this could be a trap."

Trip grinned inexplicably. "That's what I like about you Malcolm; you're always a little ray of sunshine."

Malcolm scowled and climbed into the shuttlepod. Trip's grin faded and he rubbed his stomach before climbing in.

She tentatively moved over to the side of Malcolm's bed. Trip's words echoed round her head reviving some forgotten training involving situations like this. Her head swivelled round to the object on the wall. "I have to wake him."

"Help him!" Trip repeated, injecting as much plea and urgency into his voice as he could muster. It infuriated him not being to do anything, not being able to help his friend, he loathed his weakness.

Carefully, she leaned over and keyed in several commands. The seizure subsided and the machine stopped its steady beep.

Trip's heart leapt into his throat as the beep stopped, he'd assumed the machine was some sort of vital sign monitor but the steady rise and fall of Malcolm's too thin chest assured him he was not alone.

The woman sighed. "I had to do it. He's sleeping." She stared at Trip a moment and burst into furious tears.

A tall, imposing figure strode in through the battered doorway. His uniform in tatters.

"Isobel!" He roared. "What the hell is going on here!"

The woman trembled in fear, tears still streaking down her face. "Iyen, I had to…he was….I had to!"

Iyen grabbed her roughly by the throat and slammed her up against the wall. "Do nothing without authorisation!" He screamed furiously. "Do nothing! Your pathetic worthless existence is to watch over your charges! Do nothing! You stupid ignorant fool!"

"Leave…her…alone…" Trip managed.

Iyen released Isobel and stormed over to Trip. He wrapped a strong hand around Trip's oddly thin arm. "No one asked for your opinion, Subject Alpha."

"Don't hurt him!" Isobel shrieked.

Iyen backhanded her across the face and she fell to the ground sobbing. "There's more where he came from," He snapped.

"INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT!"

"Watch over them!" Iyen ordered racing from the room.

Isobel remained on the ground sobbing and Trip was struck with the realisation he was in hell. His horrified, confused train of thought was interrupted with the sudden awakening of Malcolm.

Malcolm's eyes darted around the room, his mind a confusion of memories each one seemingly contradicting the last. Recognition dawned on him and as Isobel shuffled into his field of vision, he suddenly recognised her uniform. Reality came crashing down around his head and he screamed. A long unending scream that came from the realisation he'd been lied to.

Iona hadn't killed him. She had injected him back into the scenario, doomed to be a subject of ever watchful tests and fantasy.

All four officers glanced at each other. The alarm blared above them, signalising their presence with the repeated scream of "INTRUDER ALERT!"

Malcolm, with a hint of humour in his expression turned to Trip. "A distress call, huh?"

Walters grinned. "Sir, in our business, it's never just a distress call."

His grin faded seconds later when he tripped over a corpse.

000 Misplaced humour? Perhaps...please review! 000