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Chapter 17

"You should try one of these things."

Trip glanced at Chayton. The tall man was crouched next to a tomato plant two rows down, giving no outward indication that he had spoken at all. His hands moved with machine-like precision as he picked the red fruits from their stock and arranged them neatly in the crate next to him.

"What?" Trip asked in an equally quiet voice, keeping his eyes on Moreno who was half-asleep in his chair at the front of the greenhouse. Lendon was outside smoking.

Chayton plucked off another tomato and devoured it in two bites, quickly and stealthily enough so that Trip would not have noticed if he hadn't seen the man's hand make a quick detour to his mouth. Chayton licked tomato juice from his lips and winked at Trip.

"Try one. They're great. What's good for the body is good for the mind," he quoted the slogan Trip had read on the cargo trucks that transported River Valley produce to outlets all over the country. He couldn't help but laugh.

Chayton grinned, obviously satisfied, and turned back to his work. Trip regarded the red, fleshy fruits nestled in between the green leaves. Chayton was right, they looked delicious, and he hadn't had anything to eat since lunch, which was more than four hours ago. A quick glance at Moreno assured him that the nurse had not woken from his siesta. Okay then, why not. It wouldn't be the first time he swiped something from the greenhouses, nor were he and Chayton the only ones doing so. Most of the men tried to grab as much as they could get, and some even attempted to smuggle fruits and vegetables into their pockets and back into their dormitories for a little midnight snack. The fact that the nurses went livid when they caught a patient with his pockets full of "contraband" only seemed to encourage everyone to try and get something past their watchful eyes.

Must be something about "forbidden fruit" after all, Trip thought as he took a bite of tomato, savoring the juicy taste. He was just about to finish his snack when a hand came down on his shoulder.

"Caught red-handed, Tucker," a voice that could only be Moreno's said quietly into his ear. "And quite literally, too. I guess that means you'll have to stay after class."

Damn. Dropping the tomato in an attempt to hide the evidence, Trip turned around to face the irate nurse – and found himself looking at Malcolm's grinning face. The Englishman was holding an empty crate and had obviously just returned from the front of the greenhouse.

"You-!" Trip jumped up, but Malcolm had anticipated the move and sidestepped it with a smirk. Looking around for something he could throw at the other man, Trip spotted a rotten tomato on the ground and made a grab for it. Malcolm's smug expression turned into alarm and he ducked, but not quickly enough.

"Bloody hell, Trip!"

It was Trip's turn to smirk as he watched Malcolm's futile attempts to clean his face with his sleeve. The Englishman glowered at him, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that his nose was sprinkled with brown tomato seeds.

"Thanks a lot, Mr. Tucker. Now I'm going to smell like a bloody compost heap all night!"

"And it serves you right, too." Trip handed Malcolm a paper tissue which the other man grumpily accepted. "Nearly jumped out of my skin there. Didn't know you could do voices," he added. Malcolm had sounded just like Moreno, down to the subtle Latin American lilt that sometimes slipped into the nurse's voice.

Malcolm shrugged. "There are many fascinating things you don't know about me, Commander," he said in a strange, sing-song tone which Trip instantly recognized. Only that he had no idea how he could recognize it; it was certainly not an accent he had heard before... at least not in this version of reality. Trip was so occupied with the startling familiarity that it took him a moment to realize what Malcolm had said.

"'Commander'?" he repeated softly. "What are you talkin' about, Malcolm?"

Malcolm's face reflected his own surprise. "I don't know," he said. "I... I've no idea where that came from. I don't even know whose voice I was doing. That is, I know the voice. I just can't place it."

Trip nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

He was silent for a moment. Commander. Another one of those words, like Enterprise or targeting scanners, which Malcolm had mentioned in his fevered ramblings, back in the basement where they had sought shelter from the cold all those weeks ago. Trip had not forgotten any of them, collecting them like an archaeologist might collect the shards of an ancient tablet.

Enterprise.

"Starlight on a Vulcan sky", that song he and Malcolm both remembered and not remembered at the same time.

Targeting scanners.

Phasing pistols, although he wasn't quite sure about that one.

And now, Commander.

What next? Trip thought, frustrated with his inability to place the memory fragments in any meaningful context. Admiral? Mr. President? Your Highness?

Malcolm looked troubled as well. "Trip, do you think-" he began, but was interrupted by a voice from behind, and this time the Latin accent was for real. Moreno, looking tired and disgruntled, had abandoned his chair and was coming towards them.

"You can chat later, okay guys? We're not leaving until we've got at least a thousand crates." He eyed Malcolm more closely. "You have tomato seeds on your face, Reed."

Malcolm shot a glare at Trip. "Yes, well, I... I slipped."

Moreno sighed. "Just because we let you sleep in today doesn't mean you can fool around the rest of the time. And you know that you're not supposed to eat any of the harvest."

He opened his mouth, probably about to tell them that they would have to work overtime, when his eyes lingered on Trip, just like they had when he had come to get them after lunch. Trip resisted the urge to cover his neck with his hand. He knew that the cuts were visible for everyone to see and that everyone was aware of the implications, even though no one had said a word to him. It was like being branded, and he hated it.

"You okay, Tucker?" Moreno asked quietly.

Trip nodded. "Yeah." He was okay, as long as he didn't have to deal with Lendon. Fortunately, the nurse was keeping his distance and hadn't so much as looked at Trip today. His injured hand was hidden under a swaddle of bandages, despite Linda's advice to leave the wound uncovered. Trip could only guess that Lendon didn't want anyone to see the teeth imprints.

"Well, then, back to work," Moreno said, not unfriendly. If he had noticed the remains of Trip's stolen tomato on the ground, then he chose not to comment on it.

They returned to working on the same row of plants, plucking faster to make up for the time they had lost. Trip's hands mechanically went from the tomato stocks to the crate and back, his thoughts still occupied with the strange voice Malcolm had imitated, well enough for him to recognize it. It had to be someone they had known in their former life... someone who would use the word "Commander". A military organization came to mind, an idea substantiated by the strange emblem on the sleeves of their blue jumpsuits. Trip was almost sure by now that Malcolm had received combat training at some point, or he wouldn't have known how to deal with Anthony. And if there was an organization... did they know that he and Malcolm were here? And if they knew, was it intentional that no one had ever come to look for them? Maybe whoever was out there had simply lost track of their whereabouts. Maybe all they needed was a sign of life, a signal that directed them to look in the right place.

"...do you think it meant you?" Malcolm asked quietly.

Trip glanced up, having caught only half of the question. "Come again?"

"This... Commander. Do you think it might've referred to you?" Malcolm kept his eyes on his work as he spoke.

"I don't know," Trip said. "Could be." He hesitated, unsure whether it was wise to discuss these things in here. "I keep thinkin'... maybe it's not such a good idea for us to stay here. I know it's safer, in case anyone out there's after something we knew. But... maybe we've got friends out there, too. People who might be able to help us." He paused. "And there's Lendon, of course. I'm not gonna take much more of his shit."

Malcolm was silent for a while. "I don't see how we could get away, Trip. I told you last night, the odds are close to zero that we would succeed."

"You said they were bad," Trip said, even though he knew Malcolm had a point. Dr. Cooke hadn't been exaggerating when she had mentioned River Valley's "strict security"; the place was locked down like a prison block. "There's got to be people who've tried it."

"Maybe." Malcolm didn't sound convinced.

Trip frowned. "Don't you wanna get out of here?"

Finally, Malcolm looked at him, his eyes intense. "Yes I do," he said, his tone sharp despite the fact that he was keeping his voice down. "As much as you do, in fact. I just don't think it's wise to act on a momentary grudge and almost certainly get caught."

Trip stared at him. "You think I'm suggestin' this because of Lendon?"

Malcolm's silence was an answer in itself.

"Listen," Trip raised his voice a little, "I'd rather not do this on my own, but I will if I have to. I'm not stayin' here for the rest of my life."

He half expected an angry outburst from Malcolm, but the other man only gave him a long look. "Neither am I," he said then. "All I'm saying is that we shouldn't do anything rash."

Trip considered him for a moment. "No," he said finally, picked up his full crate and got to his feet. "But I'm not just gonna sit there and wait forever."

He felt Malcolm's eyes between his shoulders as he walked along the row of plants to the front of the greenhouse. Chayton glanced up from his work when Trip passed and raised his eyebrows in a mute inquiry, having noticed the expression on Trip's face. Trip only shrugged and walked on. He shouldn't have snapped at Malcolm, but the Englishman's remark had hit a little too close to home. After last night, Trip couldn't deny that the idea of escaping had taken root in his mind and wouldn't let go. Even if there was no one out there looking for them... at least he wouldn't have to breathe the same air as Lendon anymore.

Trip placed his full crate on one of the stacks and had just picked up an empty one when someone grabbed his arm. There was a smell of cheap of aftershave and cigarette smoke that Trip recognized even before he turned around.

He tried to wrench his arm out of Lendon's grip, but the nurse held on, dragging him behind the stacks of crates until they were hidden from view.

"Let me go!" Trip hissed. "What do you want?"

Lendon pushed him against the crates which swayed dangerously and stepped up to Trip until his nose was almost touching Trip's face. His voice was strained and very much unlike his usual sneer. "You think this is over, Tucker, but you're wrong. Owens and Moreno won't be there to watch your ass forever, and then I'm gonna get you. I'm gonna make you wish you'd never been born."

Trip pulled back. "You practice that speech all night?"

Lendon's eyes narrowed. "You better be careful, Tucker."

"Or what?" Trip stepped to one side and away from the nurse. "I haven't told anyone, if that's what you're worried about. Don't have to, either; they all know what you're doin'. I don't know what you want from me."

Lendon raised his uninjured hand as if he wanted to hit Trip. Trip refused to flinch or duck away, and the hand hovered angrily in mid-air. "No one makes a fool of me, Tucker. Remember that, no one."

Trip only looked at him. He could see that Lendon had not slept well and wondered what the repercussions would be if Dr. Cooke found out the truth.

One unemployed nurse, more likely than not. She wouldn't let him stay after that... if she believed it. And that is a big if.

Lendon must have read Trip's thoughts on his face, for he took a quick step forward. "You better not forget our deal, Tucker. You go blab to anyone and Reed ain't gonna see the outside of the Med Ward for a long time. 'Cause this time I'll be usin' the knife."

Trip wanted nothing more than to snap that pale neck, feel it break under his hands. If this asshole hurt Malcolm...

"You-"

"Careful, Trippy boy." Lendon held up a hand and grinned, sensing that he was gaining the upper hand again. "You don't wanna say anything wrong, do you? No, I know that you don't. Got little bitty Malcolm to worry about, right?"

"You leave him alone," Trip said, raising his voice. "Why don't you just leave us alone?"

Lendon smiled coldly. "I might have, Trippy, if you'd played along last night. But you think a little fun's beneath you, right? So I guess we'll have to do this the hard way... until you get the message, that is."

"Paul?"

Both Lendon and Trip turned their heads. Moreno was standing there, a worried look on his face. "Paul, what are you doing?"

Lendon smiled, back to his usual indifferent self. "Trippy here and I were just chattin'... he's got a lot to say, he does."

Moreno didn't answer the smile. "He needs to get back to work, Paul."

"Oh but of course." Lendon held up his hands. "Wouldn't want to stand in the way of that."

Moreno ignored him and nodded at Trip. "Go. We're behind schedule already."

Trip grabbed his empty crate and left, not looking at either of them as he walked back to the tomato patches. He was still shaking, his anger back out in the open and growing. This morning he had woken up thinking that he could deal with this, that he wouldn't let Lendon bait him into a wrong move. Now he was no longer so sure. Maybe the only thing he could do was get away before something happened that time and a little patience wouldn't fix.

He ignored both Malcolm's and Chayton's looks as he knelt down a few rows away from them.

If there is anyone out there looking for us... now would be a good time.

TBC...

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