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"I don't like the look of this," Malcolm muttered hauling a stunned Walters to his feet.

Ensign Chambers bent down to examine the body. "This has been here a while, sir. It's already decaying."

It wasn't entirely clear which of the others she was addressing and they all stared at her a moment before their gaze travelled towards the body.

The physique suggested the deceased was male, although they couldn't be entirely sure. The uniform had once been grey in colour, with white markings on one sleeve. A hole about the size of Malcolm's fist had been punched through the body – presumably what had killed the alien. The face had frozen in an expression of sheer annoyance.

"I wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of whatever made that hole," said Malcolm quietly.

"There's more bodies," said Trip nodding to a darkened corner of the room where remnants of what had once been the alien equivalent of a wall of sandbags still stood. An arm without an owner seemed to be directing them through the door.

"If there is anyone left I seriously doubt they won't shoot first, ask questions later," said Malcolm casting his gaze down the darkened corridor. "But they know we're here."

"First console we find I want to see if there's a way to shut the alarm off," said Trip.

They cautiously went through the doorway into the next room – not cautiously enough however as the floor literally disappeared seconds later.

Trip wanted to block out the noise, he wanted to close his eyes and wake up in his quarters. He wanted to block out the sound of Malcolm screaming. He tried to calm Malcolm down, but the words were so quiet Malcolm couldn't even here him over the sound of the screams.

Isobel stood watching him, her cheek bright red where Iyen had hit her and tear tracks pushing through the dirt on her face. Finally she did the only thing her addled mind could think of, she slapped Malcolm round the face.

The slap echoed eerily round the room, the silence was possibly even more disturbing than the frenzied screams from before.

"Malcolm," Trip croaked.

Malcolm didn't answer him, he remained almost motionless except for the quick rise and fall of his chest. Trip tried again. "Malcolm…"

"You're dead," came the whispered reply. "None of this is real."

"It's all real," Isobel hissed suddenly. "The blood, the dead, the injured, it's all real."

"Just another scenario!" Malcolm shouted in frustration. "JUST ANOTHER SCENARIO!"

"It's not!" Isobel screamed back. "It's not a scenario! You pray it is, you yearn for the bliss of ignorance and yet when you wake up you're still here! You're still here trapped in the confines of a reality you were never meant to exist in! Yet you keep on fighting to live and you watch as more of your colleagues…friends are killed and replaced because you don't know what else to do! You will never know how lucky you are!"

"Lucky!" Malcolm shot back furiously. "You took my life from me! You stuck me in some facsimile of my life and used me as a guinea pig…" His voice gave out and he started to cough.

Trip's head was spinning as he tried to process what was going on. "Malcolm!"

Isobel loomed over Trip, her eyes disturbingly wide. "Do you know what it's like?" she whispered laughing hysterically. "Do you know what it's like to see someone die? Do you know what it feels like to know you don't belong in this world, that you are a medical mutant? Do you know what it feels like to watch screens day in, day out as people live their lives?" She leaned on him, almost nose to nose with him. Trip turned his head away and tried not to wrinkle his nose at the smell, it was clear Isobel had not washed in quite some time.

Isobel blinked and glanced back at the object on the wall. "They'll kill me. I'll be recycled like the others." She backed away and returned to her monitors.

Trip looked over at Malcolm. "You're bleeding."

Malcolm ignored him and continued to bit down on his lower lip. Trip tested whether he could move again and was rewarded with a slight twitch of his left hand. Glancing back at Malcolm he realised his friend was still in the process of shredding his lip.

"Malcolm, stop it."

The reply when it came was so quiet Trip had to strain to hear it. "Iona told me you'd died."

Trip opened his mouth to say something and then closed it abruptly. Malcolm clamped down harder on his lip fighting to keep his emotions in check. Isobel sighed.

"That was what Iona was told; I was told you had died only for you to be moved into here." Isobel gave a hollow laugh. "Lies make the world go round."

The away team fell for what seemed like an eternity till they hit metal and slid down a chute before finally slamming onto a concrete floor.

"That's gonna hurt come winter," Walters joked groaning as he extracted himself from Malcolm.

Malcolm glared at him and pulled out his phase pistol. A blue beam descended on them.

"It's scanning us," said Trip pulling out his own scanner.

"Welcome, Commander. Charles. Tucker. The Third. Welcome, Lieutenant. Malcolm. Reed," the distorted voice of a computer echoed round the room. "Welcome, guests. Please wait. To be. Recycled."

"Recycled?" Chambers asked worriedly.

"And not the good kind either," Trip muttered.

Trip scanned the room for a possible exit; to his right he could see Malcolm doing the same thing.

"We're sealed in," Walters whispered.

The computer's voice echoed round the room again. "Commander. Tucker. Lieutenant Reed. Please. Move aside. So the guests. Can be. Recycled."

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