This is a long multi-chapter story set in Season One. It is complete and I'll be posting a new chapter every two / three days.
I must once again thank my two wonderful beta readers, Gabi2305, who smoothed out many wrinkles in the plot, and RoaringMice, who also helped me make Trip and Archer sound just right.
Enjoy!
"Captain!"
Archer felt the impact of a body thrown against him and found himself on the ground, face in the greenish dust of the planet they were exploring. Dazed, he turned to cast a questioning look at his Security Officer, who had suddenly tackled him like a football player. Reed was sprawled beside him and looked back with strangely wary eyes, like a child caught doing something wrong.
"Hey!" Trip exclaimed from a few metres away, while Reed mumbled, "Sir…"
Then came the rumble, and rocks began to hit the ground where, moments before, Jon had stood. He and Reed rolled further away. The pelting lasted only a few moments, but some of the fallen debris was of a size that you definitely would not want it hitting you on your head.
"What on earth…" Jon wondered.
Trip, who had been studying some ruins with Hoshi, rushed to give Archer a hand-up, and Jon accepted the help of his Chief Engineer. "You okay?" Trip enquired as, at the same time, he turned to check on Reed. The man had already bounced back to his feet and was looking up the treacherous rockface, phase pistol in hand.
"Lieutenant?" Jon asked with a frown.
All eyes turned to the top of the cliff from which the rocks had fallen.
"I don't know, Sir," Reed replied tautly.
Hoshi was studying her scanner. "Anything?" Jon enquired.
"No, Sir." The linguist lifted her gaze and looked around, as if she wanted confirmation from her senses.
Jon reached for his sleeve pocket and retrieved his communicator. "Archer to T'Pol."
"Captain," the voice of their Vulcan First Officer immediately came back.
"Some rocks just fell off a cliff, barely missing us. Any idea what's going on?"
There was a pause.
"Negative, Captain," T'Pol went on in her even tone of voice. "I can only confirm my initial analysis: the planet is uninhabited and there is no evidence of large fauna on it."
Archer winced. He did not like unexplained circumstances, especially on away missions. "We're not about to have a giant earthquake, are we?" he asked.
"Negative, Captain," T'Pol repeated after a moment. "However, the composition of some of this planet's rocks makes them fragile and susceptible to fracturing. As a consequence, unexpected debris falls could happen."
"Ah. Next time I wouldn't mind being warned a little earlier, Subcommander," Jon said, trying not to sound too critical.
"I did say that long range sensors would be just as effective, if not more, in gathering information, Captain," the Science Officer came back. "To which I believe you replied– and I quote – that you could use some fresh air."
"Thank you, Subcommander. Archer out." Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Jon flipped his communicator shut. "Well, it must have been just…" He lifted his eyebrows. "… that."
Hoshi glanced over her shoulder, to the ruins she had been examining. "I have taken all the pictures I need to try and decipher these inscriptions, Captain; if you want, we can head back."
Jon recognised what the words really meant, that she'd much rather not find out just how fragile the rocks of the planet were, and he acknowledged with a nod. Hoshi was still a bit uncomfortable off-ship, but he had no doubt that she would soon find her space legs. Well, he supposed it was time they continued on their present mission. Soval, quite unexpectedly, had asked him to try and settle a dispute between two species, and Enterprise was on her way to that diplomatic negotiation. Because they were ahead of schedule, when this planet had appeared on their sensors, he had taken the liberty of making a little detour to investigate its fascinating ruins.
Jon turned to Trip with a, "Shall we?" Here was someone who, when it came to exploring strange new worlds, was enthusiastically all for it. "Or would you rather pitch a tent like on that first M class planet we visited, Commander?" Jon prodded him with a smile.
Trip turned to give him a meaningful look. "Ah – no, thanks. One run-in with alien pollen and rock men was quite enough for me." He chuckled. "'Sides, the rocks here seem like they're aiming for us…"
Jon put a hand on Trip's shoulder, and they started towards the Shuttlepod. Passing Reed, he realized that the man was still frowning, all senses on fire; Malcolm would be Malcolm, of course, but... "Lieutenant," he called, "everything okay?"
Reed slowly re-holstered his phase pistol. "Yes, Sir, it appears so."
"Come on, then," Jon said, resuming walking. "I have it on good authority that Chef's made cheesecake."
"I'm pretty sure the people who lived on that planet were not very advanced, technologically speaking," Hoshi said.
Trip sighed. Sitting in the decon chamber with nothing to do had never been high on his list of favourites.
Jon gave his Linguist a fatherly look. "I've no doubt that you'll have those inscriptions deciphered in no time, Hoshi, and then we'll know."
Trip distracted himself from the conversation and studied their Armoury Officer, who, beside him, was playing his reticent self. "How the hell did you know that those rocks would fall?" he asked with a frown.
Reed's head turned imperceptibly towards him. "Sixth sense, I suppose."
Trip was about to make a joke about Malcolm's supposed sixth sense, when the window communicating with Sickbay opened and a round and gleeful face appeared.
"Off you go, to your respective duties," Phlox said in his chirpy tone. "You're all clean, I'm glad to say."
"Thank you, Doctor," Archer replied as they all stood up.
They filed out of the room. Reed mumbled "I'll be in the Armoury," and went off with purposeful strides. Trip wanted to follow him but felt a hand on his arm. "How about a beer in my quarters while we watch a water polo match, once we're off duty?" Jon asked.
Trip could tell from the glint in his friend's eyes that the man's heart was already in it. "Right," he agreed. "Eight o'clock?"
"See you then."
Save for unexpected and dangerous circumstances, the Armoury was a quiet place. They hadn't been on their mission for long, but Malcolm had quickly established some rules: his crew knew that they were expected to work well, as fast as the task required, and in silence. Today, however, even in this tranquil haven, he was finding it difficult to concentrate.
A vision? He had never believed in those sorts of things, yet that was the closest explanation he could find. On that planet, he had suddenly seen danger looming, he had seen what was about to happen. He had not been able to resist the urge to throw himself against the Captain, certain that he should push the man aside to save him from those falling rocks… and that alone was nothing short of incredible! He had acted on an irrational impulse – because nothing real that he could remember had alerted him to danger.
"Lieutenant, I have checked the aft cannon."
Malcolm refocused on his SIC, Ensign Bernhard Müller, standing straight as a rod near him. Good thing he could count on this reliable man. What with their away mission, he had all but forgotten about having scheduled that task for this day. They had built the cannons in record time, and some wrinkles still crept up, once in a while, needing smoothing out.
"Thank you, Ensign. Anything to report?"
"A few energy fluctuations in the array, Sir."
"Right. I will ask Commander Tucker to take a look at it."
With a nod, Müller went off, and Malcolm followed him distractedly with his gaze, his thoughts returning to his previous issue. Perhaps he ought to forget the entire thing. After all, he did have a sixth sense for situations of danger. Surely it had been just that, his sixth sense kicking in. He glanced at the time. It was still hours before he could call it a day.
"To the 2-metre man, you moron!" Archer jumped to his feet. "Nooooo! The referee must be blind!"
"I dunno, Capt'n. Seems to me that the man's doing a pretty good job of gettin' those big guys to toe the line…" Trip smiled. Jon's zest was more entertaining than the action itself. There was nothing that made his friend's blood rush more quickly than water polo. His own fun, given that he knew next to nothing about the game, was in teasing the Captain.
"Are you kidding me?" Jon responded in outrage. "That defender clearly held our point back! He almost wrenched his bathing suit off. The referee should've ejected him!"
"Our point?" Trip chuckled and grabbed a bowl from the desk. "I take no sides in this. Have some pretzels," he said, extending the bowl to Archer, who distractedly picked from it, eyes still on the monitor.
"Hey," Trip continued after a sip of beer, "wonder how Malcolm knew the rocks were gonna fall on ya, this mornin'?"
"Huh?" Jon spared him a quick glance, but the monitor was like a magnet, and his gaze kept being drawn back to it. "Go, go!" He grabbed the back of his chair, on which he was sitting astride the other way round. "Yessssss!"
"Nice shot," Trip agreed. Not that he couldn't understand his Captain's enthusiasm; if this were football instead of water polo, he'd be the one glued to the screen.
"A few seconds to the end of the third quarter, and we're leading 8 to 5," Jon declared, slapping his knee in satisfaction.
"So," Trip insisted, taking advantage of the break in the play, "did you? Wonder?"
"Wonder? About what?" Jon asked, reaching for his beer bottle. "What are you talking about, Trip?"
"Malcolm. This mornin'. He seemed to know that those rocks were gonna fall before they did."
Jon tilted his head; his eyebrows met in the middle over lips that curved up in a lopsided smile, giving his face a you've-got-to-be kidding-me expression. He shrugged. "We're talking about Malcolm, Trip. The man just knows."
"Huh," Trip huffed out. "If that's so, you did a real good job in recruitin' your Security Officer."
"Of course, I did." Jon shoved some pretzels in his mouth, eyes smiling. "He probably had a gut feeling," he said around his morsel, with a shrug.
Trip snorted. "Malcolm? A gut fee-"
"Ah! Here we go. Last quarter," Jon cut him off.
The man plunged his hand into the pretzel bowl again, already totally absorbed in the game.
Looking forward to your comments.
