Chapter Eight.

The ship was a hive of activity. Everywhere people could be found poking into corners and cubby-holes trying to entice the tribbles out using Porthos' bedding as bait. Malcolm had realised that they loved the 'aroma' that Porthos gave out. It seemed to call to them and they were only too happy to follow, as they had followed Porthos on his walks around the ship with the captain. Many people had bags slung over their shoulders in which they collected the animals, then took the full bag to the launch bay where it was upended into the container.

Captain Archer arrived at the launch bay to see how things were progressing, and was amused to find someone had painted a name on the container – Tribblepod One.

"Betcha can't guess who's idea that was, Cap'n," asked Trip, as he tipped some more animals in.

"Don't tell me. Had to be Malcolm."

"Got it in one, Cap'n."

"Where is he, by the way?"

"Down in the bowels of the ship with Porthos somewhere, making sure none get left behind."

"Good. You seem to be just tipping them in there, not making sure they won't get out again."

"Malcolm put some of Porthos' bedding in there first. They love it so much, they're making no attempt to escape."

Archer laughed. He was pleased they were finally getting some way towards freeing the ship of these unwelcome visitors.

Malcolm, meanwhile, was encouraging Porthos to root around in all sorts of odd places, discovering tribbles galore. Porthos would then lead them, like the Pied Piper, to a corridor where they could be gathered up by other crewmembers. This process was repeated over and over.

T'Pol and other members of the science department, were scanning all decks for signs of tribbles, after they had been cleared, to ensure that none were left behind. It would be disastrous if even just one was missed!

On his way through a cargo bay, Malcolm helped himself to a golf club from a bag he spotted in a corner. They belonged to Lt. Barclay, (although when he was expecting to use them was a mystery), but Malcolm found a club was just the thing for encouraging tribbles to go where he wanted them.

Back at the shuttlebay, reports were coming in from all the areas that had been cleared, and no biosigns found by the scanners. The bridge, galley and mess hall, astrometrics, hydroponics, engineering and the armoury were all clear. Then they got the all-clear from sickbay, B-deck, F-deck, the nacelles and catwalks, and observation lounges. At this rate the whole ship would soon be clear, and the pod could be ejected.

Tribbles were bouncing and rolling down the corridor to the shuttle bay and actually queuing up to allow a crewman to toss them into the pod. Others were still being tipped in by the bagful, and the pod was getting rather full.

Trip looked at the amount of space left in the pod and began to wonder if it was going to be big enough.

"We made it as big as we could," he told Archer. "I would have thought that was big enough, but now I'm not so sure."

"Let's hope there are not too many still to come, then," Archer replied.

Word seemed to have got around amongst the tribbles that there was something exciting going on, and they were tumbling out of their hidey-holes of their own accord, and happily going where sent. This made the job of rounding them up so much easier that crewmen were laughing and joking now, rather than treating it as a chore. They were even vying with each other to see who could collect the most in one go!

It took longer than Malcolm's predicted two hours, but still they soon had most areas cleared. T'pol was scanning each area personally from the bridge, to ensure that there were no tribble biosigns. She finally declared the ship free of tribbles so Captain Archer ordered the doors to the launch bay to be closed, and the door of Tribblepod One, also to be closed.

Then there was a shout "There's another one!" Sure enough running along the corridor were Malcolm and Porthos chasing a small ball of orange fluff.

"Stop the doors!" ordered Archer. "They'll never get it there in time."

Malcolm swung his golf club, lifting the creature up and sending it quickly down the corridor, where Trip caught it. Turning towards the shuttle bay, and with a perfect baseball pitch, Trip sent it straight through the rapidly diminishing gap between the doors. There was only a hairsbreadth to spare on either side. The creature dropped neatly into Tribblepod One and disappeared. The panel closed and locked with a satisfying clunk.

For a moment there was silence, then everyone was cheering. Trip, staring at the now closed doors, said "Phew. That was close."

T'Pol, speaking through the comm. from the bridge said, "I've run further scans, Captain, and I can detect no more tribble bio-signs on the ship."

"Good!" The captain looked round at the group. "That means we can proceed." He stepped up to the control panel and turned round to the waiting crowd of crewmen.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for the past few days we have been harassed, inconvenienced, embarrassed, and had our lives seriously disrupted by these obnoxious little creatures. They have insinuated themselves into every system of the ship causing all kinds of damage, some mild, but mostly severe, which has meant putting other things aside in order to do repairs. They have eaten our food, disturbed our sleep and ruined friendships. They may be just a ball of innocent looking fluff, but they are probably the most dangerous creatures in the universe. Therefore I have great pleasure in pronouncing them well and truly – evicted!" And on the last word, he pressed the button.

The launchbay doors swung open, the area decompressed, and Tribblepod One fell down towards the unsuspecting planet. The three parachutes opened allowing the Pod to fall gently, until it finally landed in a grassy area.

Everyone ran to the windows to see where it had landed, and to watch the next bit.

Malcolm picked up his remote detonator and pressed a button. Immediately a series of mini explosions could be seen around the top and sides of the Pod, then it fell apart. At once, the tribbles were jostling each other to get out, and soon were seen rolling, bouncing and hopping away in all directions. Minutes later they had all disappeared from view.

"Close launchbay doors," Archer ordered.

The doors were closed, and they all breathed a sigh of relief.

"Archer to the bridge."

"Go ahead, Captain."

"Get us away from here at maximum warp, T'Pol."

"At once, Captain."

"I think this calls for a celebration," Archer announced. "We'll have a party in the mess hall tonight."

A rousing cheer greeted this news, and gradually they all dispersed to their various duties.

Except for Captain Archer. He was anxiously looking around and wondering, "Where's Porthos?"

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