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Chapter 2

"Doctor, I feel perfectly fine." Malcolm was sat once again on the biobed, trying to out stare Phlox.

The Denobulan made a noncommittal noise, and then sighed, "Very well, I am releasing you for light duties only. I still expect you to take it easy, and I want you to come back to me tonight for a final check-up." Malcolm rolled his eyes, but he would take whatever he could get. He just needed to get out of this place. It felt like it was suffocating him.

Malcolm reached his quarters and gave a sigh of relief when the door slid shut. He stood there in the darkness for a while, trying to calm his nerves. The dream, or rather nightmare, from last night was still fresh in his mind. He couldn't ever remember experiencing anything as vivid as that before, even when he was a child. In general, he rarely remembered his dreams, and when he did, they were usually less graphic than the nightmare had been. Shaking his head slightly, he turned on the lights and went to the washbasin to splash cold water on his face. The meeting was in fifteen minutes. Malcolm hurriedly changed, and made to leave. Just as he made to open the door, a shadow flitted in the corner of his eye. Whirling around, Malcolm found that nothing was there. Shrugging it off as a residue from the nightmare, he left.

The route to the meeting was uneventful, and by the time he got there, Malcolm had pushed the nightmare to the back of his mind. Archer looked up as he entered, and smiled, "Ah, Lieutenant, glad to see you up and about. Now we're all here, let's get this over with."

The meeting progressed, going from T'Pol and Trip's samples, which hadn't been anything particularly groundbreaking, to Hoshi's carvings, "-and I can't find any reference to any kind of defensive mechanism, but then I suppose that would defeat the point. It does vaguely mention a war, or maybe an invasion, but it's hard to make out."

Their Captain smiled, "Thank you Hoshi. Well, I'm reluctant to send any more teams down to the planet considering what happened to Malcolm."

Trip nodded, "It must have been a defence that you triggered somehow. The planet's really no big loss if we don't stay."

T'Pol nodded, "I agree."

"Alright then. Travis, please break orbit. We'll be resuming our course within the hour. Dismissed everyone."

The meeting had lasted all morning, so Trip suggested that Malcolm join him for lunch before their shift started. As they made their way to the mess hall, T'Pol caught up with them, "Lieutenant Reed? May I speak with you a moment?"

Trip shrugged, "I'll meet you there."

Malcolm turned to face his superior, "Can I help you Commander?"

"Have I done something to upset you?"

Malcolm was thrown, "I'm sorry?"

"You were staring at me for most of that meeting."

Malcolm frowned, he had? "I'm sorry Commander; I must have not been paying attention. I assure you, I have no problem."

T'Pol accepted the apology and left, leaving Malcolm standing in the corridor. What the hell? He couldn't remember even looking at the Vulcan during the meeting. He stood there a moment more, and then remembered he was meeting Trip.

Their meal passed in silence. Malcolm knew it was Trip's way of subtly assessing whether he was okay; it happened every time either one of them got injured now. Malcolm suddenly frowned, "Do you like Commander T'Pol?"

Trip's head jerked up, "Malcolm…I, what? No! Keep your voice down!"

Malcolm shrugged, and stared down at his half eaten meal. Absently, he traced the fork through the food. After a few moments, he spoke again, "I don't."

Trip frowned, "Well, I'd hope you don't. Regulations, remember?"

Malcolm didn't look up, "No, I just don't like her – she's mean." Now Trip was worried. Malcolm's language made him sound more like a child, "She's scary. She's scared all her emotions away and now they're hiding. They don't like her either."

"Malcolm, what?"

Malcolm looked up, "What?" His tone had returned to normal.

"Okay, I think we need to get you to Phlox."

Malcolm gave his friend a confused look, "I feel fine Trip."

"Yeah? Well what was that about T'Pol?"

Malcolm shrugged, "I was just saying…" He frowned, and then met Trip's eyes, "It seemed normal a second ago."

Trip stood, "Come on, I'm taking you to sickbay."

Malcolm shook his head, unmoving, "It was nothing. I'm fine."

Trip didn't want to admit it, but he was genuinely scared. He decided to pull rank, "Lieutenant, I am ordering you to sickbay."

Malcolm rose, and glared at him, "Respectfully, no."

Trip lost his patience, and grabbed his friend's wrist, "Look Malcolm-"

Malcolm's eyes turned feral as he wrenched out of Trip's hand, "No!" Everyone in the mess hall turned to look at them.

Malcolm made to run past Trip, but was seized around his stomach as Trip tried to restrain him. If Malcolm had been thinking straight, he would have been able to toss Trip over with ease, and still run, but as soon as Trip had caught him, his mind fled back to the nightmare, and all the screams and blood. He began to struggle violently, kicking and screaming.

Trip strengthened his hold as he yelled for help. Malcolm was breathing far too hard; he was going to have a panic attack, if he wasn't already. A MACO ran over to help, while someone else contacted sickbay on Trip's orders. Suddenly, Malcolm's knees buckled, and he slid to the floor with the two men still holding him. He had blacked out.

Malcolm's eyes snapped open. He was back in sickbay. The last thing he remembered was being in the mess hall with Trip. The conversation had somehow turned to T'Pol, but after that, he remembered nothing. He suddenly realised that he was lying in a different part of sickbay, closed off from the normal area, and door, with a curtain. Frowning, he concentrated on the murmur of voices nearby. Quietly, he slid off the biobed, and tilted his head. The voices, from what he could tell, were Phlox, Archer and Trip – all discussing him.

"-apart from his comments on T'Pol, did he say anything else?" Phlox.

"Not really," That was Trip, "He seemed to think what he had just said had seemed normal at the time, but then he looked like he realised it had been odd."

"What's wrong with him, Phlox?" Archer that time.

The Doctor answered, "From the tests that I ran on the Lieutenant, I believe I can give you a prognosis."

"Get on with it Doc!" Trip's voice had elevated to a higher volume.

A sigh, "Lieutenant Reed's dopamine levels have increased in the left side of his brain. This is a sign of schizophrenia. However, I am reluctant to say this considering all that we have encountered over the years. Unfortunately, we cannot exclude any possibility, and considering what you have told me-"

"Oh come on Doc!" Trip sounded more agitated now, "One bump on the head and you're calling him crazy?"

"It is possible that the Lieutenant's brain trauma could have had a hand in this, yes; escalating a problem. Combined with the increasing stress that this crew, especially the senior staff, have been under recently, and Lieutenant Reed's natural paranoia that comes with his job description, I'm afraid that-"

Malcolm stopped listening. He sank back on the bed. No. There was no way he was going crazy. He felt fine. Unwillingly, he thought back to the nightmares, but then he shook his head. He couldn't be going crazy. Malcolm shivered. So why had Phlox sounded so worried?

To Be Continued…

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