Sorry for the cliffhanger. Here we go...

§ 6 §

Archer looked around, suddenly uncertain whether sneaking off the Enterprise on his own had been such a good idea. Actually, as he took in his rocky, inhospitable surroundings, he was beginning to feel he knew the answer. He raised a hand, wanting to rake it through his hair, but the sleeve, once again too long, got in the way, and he let his arm fall back with a groan. Damn, but he was going to end up the size of a rat, and then of a cockroach, and then of a flea, and then of a molecule, and then of an atom, and then… And then what?

"Welcome."

Archer started, turning in a flash to the faint metallic voice that had come from behind him. At first he could see nothing. But when he shifted his line of sight lower he made out a curious group of three beings, all identical. He didn't want to stop and think just how small they must be, since in comparison he was quite large.

He bent down to have a closer look. They had conical bodies – or should he say armours? – of some unidentified material, purple in colour with regularly spaced, thin and bright turquoise horizontal stripes; the cone rounded off at the top, where two turquoise dots peered at him. There was nothing that might be related, even remotely, to a neck, but the straight nose-like protuberances and rugged grins under those turquoise eyes told him that the creatures' heads were, indeed, in what was generally considered the right place for it. Three pairs of short arms jutted out of the cones, one on top of the other, and each ending in three hands. Each being stood on three short legs.

Archer looked at them in awe. Were they even made of flesh and bones? Suddenly, despite his size advantage, he felt a measure of distrust. He didn't like that. He'd come out here for this, to meet new species and explore new worlds. But he had quickly learned that his mission wasn't the almost romantic adventure he had envisioned, and that not everyone shared his enthusiasm for new encounters. In other words, he had learned to be suspicious of smiling aliens. Besides, these were almost certainly responsible for what had happened to him. It was therefore with some trepidation that he wondered what else he was going to learn about the universe today.

"Who are you?" he asked, realising only as he spoke that the creatures had addressed him in English. Were they the same who had sent that signal? If yes, in the meantime they had learned how to communicate… Hoshi had taken a while to decipher it.

"Thank you for answering our call," the same being said.

"You're welcome," Archer automatically replied.

With some difficulty, he flipped open his now abnormally large communicator. He had debated whether to take one, for it had become bulky and uncomfortable to carry, but had finally thought it would be a good precaution. "Archer to Enterprise," he said as he looked, with some misgivings, at the three aliens.

"Captain. I was about to page you. Please repeat, we cannot hear you."

T'Pol's voice boomed back, making him wince and hold the communicator at arm's length – both arms.

"Boost the signal, Ensign," he heard her instruct Hoshi.

Archer's heart missed a beat. Cannot hear? You mean to tell me… The one time the communicator was working fine, no dampening field blocked the signal or strange interferences distorted it, his voice was too damn feeble to carry through?

He brought the thing right in front of his mouth. "T'Pol!" he shouted. "Can you hear me now?"

This shouldn't be happening. After all, babies could pierce your eardrums when they screamed! Except he was no baby; he was a damaged adult.

"Captain," T'Pol came back, articulating words clearly as if there were a problem with the comm line, "we can not make out your words. Please repeat."

Archer flipped his communicator shut. He wasn't going to get much help there. He was alone. No, he wasn't alone, he corrected himself, focusing back on the strange aliens at his feet. Right now his best bet was to question the three. There was more than a chance the beings might hold the answer to his predicament.

Suddenly, there was a flash, and he felt dizzy. The world was spinning around him worse than in what Starfleet cadets called the Vomitorium. Indeed, if this went on much longer he was going to lose the contents of his stomach. Fortunately, that didn't happen. But his relief, once he felt back on solid ground, quickly turned to dismay and embarrassment: he was suddenly stark-naked, struggling in a sea of cloth. He grappled with it, and with difficulty extricated himself. His heart was pounding loudly against his ribcage, because his brain might have shrunk to the size of a pea, but was still fully functional and quite capable of grasping the implications. He climbed out of the tangle and clamped both hands in front of his nether regions.

"We have prepared your wtheitheiw," the metallic voice said, unperturbed, but a lot louder.

Archer was stunned. Now he was eye to eye with the strange beings. Which meant he was as small as… Oh, hell. He was being offered what looked like a perfect replica of his uniform in the right size to fit his current stature. He blinked, his mind teaming with too many questions.

"Thank you," he mumbled, mechanically reaching for the garments. At least he could hide his nudity from the curious gazes of these beings. And they were curious, he could tell even though their expressions hadn't changed. He turned away from them and quickly dressed himself.

"Please follow us," the same one of them said, once he was done.

"Where to?" Archer wanted to know. "Why did you send that signal? Why are you doing this to me?"

But the creatures disregarded his enquiries. "This way," their spokesman said, and they started to move away, their three legs working in admirable synchronism.

This way where? Archer wondered. The planet was a ball of dust and rocks... And then, just as he was about to voice his qualms, something shimmered in one of the bigger boulders nearby. Slowly, an opening materialised.

At least he had a feeling he was not going to shrink any further.

Trip was watching Malcolm and Phlox don their EV suits. Both had their grey undersuits on already: Malcolm's clung to every muscle of his wiry body while Phlox's did nothing to conceal his rotund belly. Malcolm pulled on the outer suit; then heaved up the breast-plate that was resting on the bench in front of him and slipped it on with acquired ease. Phlox was lagging slightly behind. He struggled with the unfamiliar movements, and Trip stepped in to help.

"Thank you, Commander," the doctor gratefully said, glancing at Malcolm as if to see what he was supposed to do next. Phlox never took much part in away missions, and though he had declared that he wasn't uncomfortable wearing an EV suit, he didn't have a lot of practice in putting the bulky thing on.

Unaware of his partner's difficulties, Malcolm was going through the steps quickly, if carefully. He was fully concentrated, as was his nature, especially prior to a mission. His movements were far from fluid, though, telling Trip that under that impassive facade lay a certain dose of anxiousness. Well, knowing him, he must already be thinking ahead to the planet and its hidden dangers.

Malcolm checked and double-checked all the seals on his suit. Trip could not blame him. Nobody would want to risk the Captain's plight, even though Phlox seemed inclined to think it hadn't been caused by a contaminant Archer had picked up because of a failure of his suit. After the Captain's and Malcolm's dreams, it seemed practically certain that the culprit had been that strange flash-like phenomenon they both had remembered, but couldn't quite describe.

"Here, Doc." Trip handed Phlox his pair of gloves; then went behind him and checked his oxygen tank and its connecting tubes. The planet's air was breathable, but – again – it was better to be on safe side.

"T'Pol to Lieutenant Reed."

Malcolm frowned; then quickly walked to the closest com link. "Go ahead."

"We have been paged by the Captain, but could not understand his message," T'Pol's voice said. "The signal was too feeble."

"It could well be because of the Captain's size," Phlox suggested bleakly. "His shrinkage rate seems to have accellerated in the last few hours."

Malcolm sought Trip's eyes with eyes where disquiet briefly flashed. There wasn't much reassurance Trip could offer him. He regretted T'Pol's decision to keep him on board. Malcolm could probably use a friend down there. Not that Phlox wasn't one, but Malcolm could probably use an engineer and his technical expertise. T'Pol, though, didn't seem to think so, and right now she was the Acting Captain.

"Lieutenant?" the woman in question prompted.

"Understood," Malcolm replied, shaking off his pensiveness. "We're just about ready to be transported down. I'll let you know what I find. Reed out."

"Look, I'll be in contact," Trip told him quietly. "Won't be like bein' down there with ya, but..."

"It's okay. We'll be fine," Malcolm said tersely, his usual bottled-up self. Grabbing his helmet, he turned to Phlox. "Ready, Doctor?"

Phlox blew out the breath of someone who had just caught up. "Ready, Mister Reed."

Malcolm nodded firmly. "Let's go then. Stand by to transport all of us back, Commander," he threw over his shoulder as he led the way to the transporter room.

"Just say the word and…" Trip trailed off. Something was suddenly tickling his brain cells.

Archer couldn't believe his eyes. There was a whole miniature city down here, a whole microcosm! The planet was hardly the bare rock it seemed at first sight; that was for sure.

As soon as they had entered, he turned and saw the opening close again, taking once again the appearance of rock. Through his amazement he felt a twinge of fear. He shouldn't have come alone, contravening Starfleet rules. Was Enterprise ever going to find him again? But his curiosity took over, and he put his worries on hold.

They were on a sort of observation platform. In front of them, as far as the eye could see, an incredible landscape of exotic structures and roads stretched, like a fairy-tale city. There were trees and a river, small houses and high-rises, and vehicles of some kind speeding like ants on the main arteries. In the vault above, a rusty-coloured sort of sky, what looked like an artificial sun shone bright.

"Where are we?" he breathed out. "Why am I here?" As usual, no one replied to his questions. He was getting used to that.

"Follow us," the talkative robot – Archer didn't know how else to call him – said once again. And he could do nothing but obey.

"Reed to Enterprise."

Malcolm heard himself calling the ship; it felt as if someone else was speaking. Maybe this was still part of that nightmare. Maybe he would soon wake up, a cold sweat on his brow, and find himself in bed in his quarters. A hot shower would set him right again. The cold sweat felt very real, though, and he couldn't take his eyes off the small uniform crumpled on the ground, with the abandoned communicator nearby.

"T'Pol here."

"We've found the Captain's uniform and communicator," he said, amazed at how cool he sounded under the circumstances. He would do his Starfleet teachers proud, if they could hear him now. Keep those emotions under control, at all times but especially when things are at their worst. Their teachings had fallen on fertile ground. Ground prepared by years of Reed school.

"Can you explain, Lieutenant?" T'Pol's voice came back.

She, too, sounded calm and collected, but she had her Vulcan nature to fall back on; he had no doubts her heart right now, unlike his, wasn't trying to break some ribs.

"The Captain's uniform lies abandoned on the ground, as does his communicator," he said, aware that he wasn't explaining much.

"Any sign of the Captain himself?"

Malcolm looked at Phlox, who was taking readings off the discarded clothes, but the Doctor was too busy even to notice.

"None for the moment," he replied. "I'll keep you apprised. Reed out."

Pressing the comm link on his breastplate closed, Malcolm started to scan the area. The man couldn't have disappeared, could he? – he thought grimly. The head of Security just didn't lose the Captain. Not in his way of thinking. He didn't know if he could ever live with himself knowing his bloody digestion had had anything to do with his Captain's early demise.

Minutes ticked by in total silence.

"I have checked thoroughly," Phlox finally said, standing up from his kneeling position, "but I can't find the Captain's biosigns here."

Malcolm's scanner beeped, and his heart skipped a beat. "That's because he seems to be…" He looked up. "Inside this rock?" he wondered with a grimace.

TBC

I've written so many stories that I can't remember if I used these particular aliens before - they are a faithful description of one of my son's drawings, when he was in kindergarden, a horrible monster with a toothy smile, which is framed and hanging near my desk: "Mommy when she didn't have two hands and two feet yet." :-)