CHAPTER SIX
Malcolm had completed the interior scans and had found exactly what he had expected -- nothing. The crew complement registered the correct number of humans, in addition to one Denobulan and one Vulcan. Also accounted for were one small dog and the various creatures in Doctor Phlox's small menagerie in sickbay. There were no lifesigns that couldn't be explained.
The result was the same as that of the low-key search Malcolm had ordered his security staff to perform. His men were as bored as the rest of the crew, and they had been eager to have something to do besides polish phase pistols and run torpedo drills. If his security personnel believed the search was just another drill to keep their skills honed, Malcolm wasn't about to disabuse them of that notion. He'd gotten the impression from Hoshi that, until there was some sort of proof, she didn't want anyone else to know about her experience. He wasn't sure he wanted anyone to know he was helping her with it, either. Out of consideration for her feelings, not to mention his reputation, he wasn't going to make her alleged ghost sighting common knowledge.
Malcolm looked around the bridge. T'Pol was at her station, engrossed in the readings they were compiling to chart this sector of space. The logical Vulcan was the last person Malcolm wanted to involve in a search for what she no doubt would believe was a figment of Hoshi's imagination.
He realized that it must have been hard for Hoshi to approach him about her suspicion, considering his skepticism. At the same time, he felt a certain amount of satisfaction that Hoshi had faith in him to help her find out exactly what it was that she had seen.
Hoshi had left the bridge a short time ago for a lunch break. Malcolm, knowing she was anxious to learn the results of the scans, had elected to stay on the bridge and finish up. Somehow, he didn't think his findings -- or rather, the lack of them -- would surprise her. She seemed certain that she'd seen something otherworldly. Otherworldly was looking more and more possible, he thought as he got to his feet and gestured for a replacement to take over at tactical. That wasn't to say it had to be the ghost of a long-dead spacefarer. There could be a perfectly feasible explanation that didn't have anything to do with spectral apparitions. They'd met a number of aliens with unusual abilities. His instincts, however, were telling him that was not the case.
Malcolm sighed as he stepped into the turbolift. It wasn't that he didn't believe Hoshi had seen something. He was sure she had. But whether it was real or imagined was another matter. If only for her peace of mind, he needed to check all the possibilities he could think of. But if he exhausted those possibilities, how was he supposed to go about tracking down a ghost?
Remembering something Travis had said at breakfast, he decided to return to the launch bay. He found Trip rummaging through a toolbox on a work table next to the Wayfarer's Rest when he walked in. He didn't see Travis.
"What happened to your helper?" Malcolm asked.
"I sent Travis off to lunch," Trip replied. "Until I find my microcaliper, I can't take any measurements on the engine. I could have sworn I put it in my toolbox after I got done usin' it."
"Don't you have another you can use?" Malcolm asked.
"I could get one from Engineering," Trip admitted as he continued to dig through the tools in the box, "but it's my favorite. I know it's here somewhere."
Malcolm stated the obvious line of inquiry. "When was the last time you used it?"
"That's just it," Trip said. "I used it about an hour ago, and I put it back in the toolbox." The engineer stood thinking for moment, then shook his head. "But maybe I'm mistaken." He walked over to the Wayfarer's Rest and stepped through the hatchway.
Malcolm followed and joined in the hunt for the missing microcaliper. Between the two of them, and the fact that power from Enterprise was now being fed to the little ship, the small engine compartment was brightly lit by its own interior lights and was thoroughly searched within minutes. The microcaliper wasn't found.
"Are you sure you didn't use it somewhere else?" Malcolm asked.
Trip, standing in the center of the engine compartment with his hands on his hips, shook his head. "I'm sure. And before you ask, Travis didn't use it. I'm sure of that."
Malcolm headed for the next compartment.
"I know I didn't use it in there," Trip called after him.
Malcolm stepped through the hatchway and stopped in the living quarters. The small living area was as neat as a pin. Trip and Travis had no reason to work in the personal quarters, and it was more likely that the microcaliper had been left in the forward compartment if they'd been in there. After a cursory glance at the bunk and the counter surfaces, he made for the next compartment.
The cockpit was as he remembered it. Small to the point of inducing claustrophobia, it nevertheless seemed bigger now that there weren't two other people in EV suits crowding in and a dead body in the pilot's chair. Malcolm let his gaze roam from one end of the main instrument panel to the other. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary. He was turning away to leave when his eye was caught by light reflecting off a piece of shiny metal on the deck under the instrument panel. He leaned down for a better look. In the space for the pilot's feet and legs was the missing microcaliper. Maybe Travis or Trip had dropped it unnoticed while they were in here. It certainly wasn't a place they'd put down the tool on purpose.
Malcolm bent down and picked up the device. As he straightened, he felt a chill on the back of his neck. Similar to what he privately referred to as his personal radar, the sensation triggered a rush of adrenaline in his body as he reacted to the feeling that someone had snuck up behind him. He whirled around to face the hatchway.
No one was there.
He grimaced. Hoshi's story of seeing what she thought was the ghost of Robert Watson must be getting to him. That was the effect ghost stories had on a person. A little seed of uncertainty was planted in your mind, and the next thing you knew, you were jumping at shadows.
He made his way back to the engine compartment. "Found it," he said as he held out the tool.
Trip's face lit up as he took the microcaliper from Malcolm. "Where was it?"
"Under the instrument panel in the cockpit."
Trip stared at Malcolm. "It couldn't have been. We didn't take any tools in there."
"Are you sure?" Malcolm asked.
"Positive," Trip said empathically. "We only went in there one time and that was to see if the relays were switched on so we could get some light in here after we connected the power lines."
"Maybe Travis had it."
Trip shook his head. "Uh-uh. We'd just got done hooking up the power in the launch bay. All the tools were in my toolbox out there. We both came in, and I swear neither one of us had anything with us."
Malcolm pursed his lips. "It couldn't very well have walked in there on its own. One of you must have had it and dropped it in the cockpit."
Trip's eyes grew wide. "Or maybe we have a poltergeist." At Malcolm's blank stare, he added, "You know, a ghost that likes to move things and make noise."
"Come on, Trip. You don't believe in that stuff, do you?"
"Have you got a better explanation?" Trip asked.
Malcolm didn't. In fact, recalling the reason he'd come to the launch bay to see Trip, he suddenly felt a little foolish. He reluctantly shook his head and said, "Actually, I was wondering if you could help me with something."
"Go ahead." Trip motioned with the microcaliper toward the engine. "I can listen while I work." He turned toward the engine and started taking measurements.
Malcolm cast a glance around the compartment. He didn't know what he expected to see, but he couldn't deny that he was feeling increasingly edgy. He knew he would be opening himself up to teasing from Trip as soon as he broached the subject. Maybe that explained his reluctance to bring it up. He cleared his throat. "I need to set up some equipment to pick up EM readings on the ship."
Trip, his attention focused on what he was doing with the engine, asked absently, "What for?"
"According to the research I've done, and from what little I remember from some of Travis' ramblings on the subject..."
Trip input some numbers on a data PADD and repositioned the microcaliper to take another measurement. "Go on."
Malcolm blew out his breath. "Hoshi thinks she's seen a ghost."
Trip swung around to face Malcolm, the measurements forgotten. "You're not pullin' my leg, are you?" When Malcolm shook his head, Trip said, "Wow! What happened? Where'd she see it?"
Malcolm blinked, startled by Trip's ready acceptance that one of their coworkers had seen a ghost.
Trip said, "I could tell something was bothering Hoshi when she asked to talk to you this morning. And since it was you she wanted to talk to, I figured it might have been a security concern. You've had enough time to check out anything that might be a threat to Enterprise, so that leaves..." Trip gazed around the engine room of the Wayfarer's Rest. "Why do you need to take electromagnetic readings?"
"From what little I can find on the topic of ghosts and hauntings, sudden spikes in the strength of EM fields are associated with--"
A long clang resounded from the front of the ship. The two men stared at each other as the reverberation of metal on metal died away.
"That came from inside this ship," Trip said quietly. "And there's nobody in here but you and me."
"Exactly what I was thinking," Malcolm said, and took off at a run for the cockpit. Trip was right behind him.
Malcolm was through the living quarters and into the cockpit in only a few seconds. He looked around, trying to discover the source of the noise they'd heard, as Trip clambered into the cockpit next to him.
They both saw it at the same time. A number of small cabinets were built in to the bulkheads. The door of one of the cabinets was wide open. Malcolm heard Trip swallow.
"That wasn't like that the last time I was in here," Trip said softly. "Did you open it?"
"No," Malcolm said tersely. He stepped closer to the cabinet and inspected the latch. "This couldn't have opened on its own."
"Even if it did, it would have taken a lot of force to make that much noise. It sounded like somebody slammed it back against the bulkhead," Trip said. "What's inside?"
Malcolm looked inside and frowned. He reached in and grabbed the only item in the cabinet. Turning to face Trip, he held up a bulky metal box by a handle riveted to its top.
Trip looked at the old toolbox, then at Malcolm. With an uncertain smile, the engineer said, "Looks like somebody wanted us to know where the tools are." He took the toolbox, turning it around in his hands to study it. "Wanna guess whose this is?"
Trip turned the toolbox, holding it by the sides so that Malcolm could see the handle. The letters "RW" were stamped on the grip.