Miscommunication - Part 5

Miscommunication

by Ragua

Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I’m just borrowing.

A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute
http://home.teleport.com/~vli/vlif.htm

Many thanks to Clicks, the wonder beta!

Allow me to apologize in advance for the graphically disgusting nature of Trip’s ailment. I just have a sick mind. (Sorry again for the bad pun.)

Those readers who have been around for a while—we’re not old, we’re mature!—may recognize one of Trip’s lines as something I pirated from an old Bill Cosby standup performance.

****

Chapter 9

Malcolm Reed held his breath as he watched the alien patrol, appalled at how near he and T’Pol had come to being discovered. When the Science Officer had announced that the next power relay was less than 100 meters away, he had hurried the advance, neglecting to conduct the most basic scan with his tricorder. At the time, all he could think was that the sooner they completed their mission, the sooner they could return for Trip.

Luckily his training and common sense made him pause automatically at the edge of the forest, and that had saved the mission from ending in complete disaster. The Mahdini patrol came into view around the power relay station just as Reed was raising his foot to step into the clearing. Malcolm reacted instantaneously, pivoting on his planted foot, and dropping to the ground, frantically motioning to T’Pol to do the same. When the Vulcan complied, Reed turned his attention back to the clearing.

There were four Mahdini. The dim light did not prevent Malcolm from noticing that they were most certainly different from humans. Vulcans, too, for that matter.

They were all quite stocky, and their heads seemed very round. Like ripe fruits, Malcolm decided. The Armory Officer spent a moment pondering whether they were shaped more like mangoes or cantaloupes. The coloring was definitely a cross between the two. The Mahdini in the patrol were all orange-colored, but their individual shades ran the gamut between the pastel of cantaloupe to the near red of mango.

What concerned Reed most was their bat-like ears. Most likely, that meant excellent hearing. Weren’t bats able to hear frequencies inaudible to the human ear? Malcolm found himself wishing that he had paid more attention all the times this mother forced him to watch nature documentaries with her.

T’Pol apparently shared his concern. She moved stealthily next to him and gave a hand signal that they should move away from the path. With a minimum of noise, they retreated far enough into the forest to avoid detection, but not so far as to inhibit their surveillance of the Mahdini patrol.

The patrol did not seem particularly disciplined. Two Mahdini entered the building, while two maintained an extremely casual watch outside. Reed grimaced in disgust. They seemed more like teenagers loitering on a street corner! The impression of youthfulness was magnified when their comrades came back outside after what could only have been a most cursory inspection of the building’s interior. The patrol headed jauntily in the direction of the path recently vacated by the Enterprise officers, chatting in a jovial manner.

The Universal Translator caught snatches of the patrol’s conversation as the Mahdini traipsed across the clearing and up the path.

“...what we’re looking for...”

“Who knows? Who cares?”

“...those scientists...seeing aliens around every corner...”

“...need to get out more!”

“Or find something better to do with their...”

The last statement generated a great deal of laughter, which hung about long after the Mahdini had disappeared into the trees.

Reed held up his tricorder to follow the progress of the patrol. When it indicated that they were more than 200 meters away, he turned to T’Pol to indicate that it was safe for them to continue. The Vulcan, however, was still staring intently down the path the Mahdini had taken. Malcolm followed her gaze, abruptly identifying her concern. Their eyes locked in horror.

They had left Trip only 10 meters from that same path.

* * *

Commander Charles Tucker III was crouched on his knees with his face in the dirt and his arms over his head. It was a reverent pose, but if the engineer was praying for anything, it was only that he would die quickly.

His injury had all the negative elements of an alcohol overdose, but sadly none of the enjoyable aspects associated with arriving at that state. He couldn’t even look forward to the morning when it would all be over, because at the moment, it didn’t look as if his suffering would ever end.

Trip had initially thought that he would feel better after purging his stomach. That was the way these things normally worked, after all. But the nausea, the dizziness, and the sweats had all returned with a vengeance. He felt absolutely wretched, praying for a merciful death alone here on this alien planet. At least he didn’t have the added humiliation of having his friends present to watch him puking his guts out.

The engineer had been sick twice more, and neither episode had resulted in an improvement in his condition. If anything, he felt worse. T’Pol had told him to stay put, but he couldn’t bear to remain in the vicinity of the partially digested contents of his last meal, so he had forced himself to crawl away from each mess.

It wasn’t as if he was getting very far anyway. And if they had to, T’Pol and Malcolm could track him down by following the trail of vomit he was leaving behind.

Trip groaned in agony, trying to get his mind to focus on something that would help him fight off the next wave of nausea. He’d already tried reviewing the process for disarming the power relay, but apparently that was a one-time deal. Utilizing that technique had resulted in puddle number one.

Then he had attempted to mentally conduct a retrofit of his warp engine. That had worked for a little while, but you could only conduct so many imaginary upgrades. Once he had his dream engine all decked out to the nines, the queasiness returned. Puddle number two followed shortly thereafter.

What else could he concentrate on to head off the increasing queasiness? He had to focus on something!

Focus, dammit! Tripped begged his addled brain.

Thakau, it responded.

Ah! Trip thought hopefully. Ozhikaik.

How logical.

* * *

Multitasking impressively, Sub-Commander T’Pol and Lieutenant Reed argued in whispers while simultaneously completing the next phase of their mission.

“Commander Tucker is completely vulnerable,” Malcolm hissed while scanning for Mahdini at the door of the third power relay station. “We have to go back for him before that patrol finds him!” He turned his tricorder to the alien security device just above the head of the Vulcan Science Officer.

“We left Mr. Tucker at least 10 meters from the path,” T’Pol countered as she worked efficiently to disarm the power relay. “You and I were much closer than that, and the patrol was completely unaware of our presence.”

Reed made an exasperated noise as he returned his attention to the building’s exterior. “You and I were fully cognizant and in complete possession of all our faculties!” he muttered rebelliously as he monitored for signs of a patrol.

T’Pol finished her task and began to replace the access panel. “While your assessment of the Commander’s condition is correct, it would be illogical to jeopardize our mission—not to mention the lives on the Karil and possibly on Enterprise as well—for the sake of a single person.” She paused before continuing. “And you know Mr. Tucker well enough to realize that he would not want us to do so.”

The Vulcan turned away from him to collect the tools, in case her face revealed how much saying the words cost her. When she looked up again, she saw her own misery reflected in the Armory Officer’s countenance.

“Time is of the essence,” she comforted softly. “The sooner we finish our mission, the sooner we can return for Commander Tucker.”

Their eyes met for a moment before Malcolm dropped his gaze, nodding. His professional mask replaced the anguished expression on his face as he scanned the exterior of the building once again.

“It’s clear,” he said gruffly, heading for the next power relay without looking back at her.

* * *

Trip lay on his side, eyes half open, muttering to himself. The Vulcan strategy was working well.

Gol-tor ozhika nash-veh, Trip declared firmly. Logic is helping me!

Seemed only fair, though, seeing as how he was helping the Vulcans. (Gol-tor nash-veh Vuhlkansu.)

He disabled the power relay. (Rikup-tor nash-veh...) Trip paused for a moment, stumped. What was “power relay?” He couldn’t remember. He’d use “gizmo.” That would work. (Rikup-tor nash-veh zuvel.)

Of course, he’d disabled only one gizmo. T’Pol was currently disabling the rest. (Rikup-tor T’Pol zuvel.) And Malcolm was helping her. (Gol-tor Malcolm T’Pol.)

The engineer took a deep breath and continued. The Vulcan language was definitely having a calming effect on his stomach. (Hayal-tor Vuhlkansu skaun-sa’haf.) Probably because he couldn’t even imagine a Vulcan barfing. Did Vulcans even experience nausea? (Slahk? ) Did they vomit? (Pluhk? )

With words like that they must, Trip decided. The Vulcan words certainly sounded like the noise a person made when...

Uh-oh. Trip realized too late that he had made an error (lafosh) in straying from the script. The thought of regurgitation in any language seemed to be a catalyst. He frantically attempted to focus (thakau! ) on the translations rather than his runaway peristalsis.

Kroikah! the engineer begged his stomach. All to no avail.

After several agonizing moments during which he emitted sounds that mimicked the Vulcan word for his actions, Trip wobbled on his hands and knees as he gazed miserably down at puddle number three.

* * *

Geerkha had been excited and proud at having been selected to work at Science Center Prime. It was a very prestigious position, despite the fact that no one really knew much of what went on at the facility. But at least it paid well!

The reality of the job was disappointing, however. And extremely boring. All he had done so far was wander around the vast grounds of the complex making sure that there were no interlopers. He had begun the job with extreme conscientiousness, but now he merely went along for the ride when patrolling the grounds with his coworkers.

Things had been tense recently, though. SCP scuttlebutt said that the scientists had actually used the Protectors’ Shield to capture an alien space vessel! Geerkha raised his eyes to the stars. If the rumors were true, then the spaceship was somewhere up there, invisible to his eyes. It was certainly true that the scientists had been more agitated lately. They had doubled the number of patrols, and the Guardsman supervisor had impressed upon them the need to be alert for anything out of the ordinary.

Perhaps they suspect that the aliens will still be able to attack our planet! Geerkha thought fearfully. That was just what the Protectors wanted to prevent!

Suddenly the patrol leader, Mir-Dan, stopped and held up a hand, his ears flicking to the right. The others followed his example, listening intently.

There was something in the bushes to the right of the path. It was making a hideous sound.

Mir-Dan motioned for Geerkha to take point. The neophyte would have liked to protest, but he realized that, as the rookie, he could expect the most distasteful assignments. With his light-rifle held well out in front of him, Geerkha cautiously made his way toward the sound. It gave him small comfort to feel his comrades at his back.

The horrible sound ceased abruptly, only to be replaced by other, less threatening noises. Is sounded like...coughing? The Mahdini patrol closed in. Whatever it was was right there in front of them, under that bush!

A sudden flash of light made Geerkha jump. Mir-Dan was directing his handheld beam at the noises. A creature of some sort became visible. It froze and looked in their direction.

Geerkha squealed in terror and was belatedly gratified to realize that he was not the only one doing so. With the exception of Mir-Dan, the rest of the patrol was panicking as well. The formerly silent forest was now a-babble with Mahdini voices.

“Mother of All, what is that?”

“An alien! It’s an alien! Just like the Protectors warned us about!”

“No, it’s an animal of some sort. Look at the fur on its head!”

“An animal? You idiot, it’s wearing clothes!”

“Ye gods, it’s ugly!”

“It’s blind. Look at its eyes!”

“That must be why it isn’t trying to run away.”

“No, it’s ill. See? It’s been sick!”

“Eeeuuuw...alien puke!”

“Quiet!” Mir-Dan barked at his underlings. The other Mahdini ceased their commentary and eyed their notoriously short-tempered superior. Mir-Dan moved forward cautiously to get a better view of the creature. After observing it for several moments, the patrol leader came to a decision. “We must take it to SCP Headquarters. Our instructions are explicit. Captured aliens are to be kept alive and turned over to the Protectors.”

Now the Mahdini turned their eyes uncertainly back to the creature. It didn’t seem particularly threatening. Actually, it looked vaguely pathetic, crouching in the light of Mir-Dan’s beam and trembling miserably.

Still, no one wanted to be the first to touch it.

“Gods of our fathers!” cried Mir-Dan in exasperation after several moments of silent inactivity. “Let’s each of us grab one of its limbs. It can’t be that heavy. And it doesn’t look capable of putting up much of a struggle.”

As the four Mahdini converged on the quivering alien, Mir-Dan added in disgust, “And we’ll carry it face-down, in case it vomits again.”

* * *

“Lieutenant,” T’Pol’s voice distracted Malcolm from his scans of the forest. They were taking a brief rest before moving on to the next power relay. When the Armory Officer looked in her direction questioningly, the Vulcan continued. “Does the word ‘hot’ have any meanings other than the obvious?”

Reed was confused. “Uhm, Sub-Commander?”

“When he first regained consciousness, Commander Tucker stated that I was ‘hot.’ At the time, I believed him delirious. But perhaps I was mistaken.”

The Armory Officer was nonplussed, wondering how to respond. “Erm...well, from the commander’s comments, not to mention the symptoms he displayed, I would guess that his injury resulted in a condition similar to the over-consumption of alcohol.”

“So you believe that Commander Tucker was behaving as if inebriated?” When Malcolm nodded, the Vulcan followed up on this theory. “And inebriation leads humans to guess at the body temperature of others?”

Malcolm sputtered, trying not to laugh outright. “No, Sub-Commander! When inebriated, humans often say things they wouldn’t normally say!” When T’Pol continued to look puzzled, Reed gulped and forged ahead. “Ah, ‘hot’ is...um...slang for ‘physically attractive.’”

T’Pol thought about this for a moment. “You are intimating that Commander Tucker would not call me ‘attractive’ under normal circumstances?”

The Armory Officer hesitated, weighing his words carefully. “Well, I can’t speak for the commander, but perhaps he feels that it would be inappropriate to do so.”

“Due to Starfleet’s non-fraternization rule?”

“Possibly,” Reed stalled. Then he was overcome by a sudden desire to tell the truth. “Or he could simply be intimidated by you.”

The Science Officer raised an eyebrow. Reed responded to the unspoken question. “No offense, Sub-Commander, but your demeanor is rather intimidating from a human perspective.” Malcolm was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation.

I’m a Tactical Officer, he groused silently, not a relationship counselor.

He stood up. “We should be moving on.”

“Yes,” T’Pol agreed, collecting her gear and joining him.

* * *

Upon surreptitiously activating the UT on the communicator T’Pol had left him, Trip was disappointed to learn that the Mahdini had no intention of killing him.

My one chance to be put out of my misery, shot to hell, the engineer lamented. If he could somehow get hold of the phaser in his jumpsuit pocket without the Mahdini noticing, maybe he could just kill himself.

The journey from the forest to the main building had been particularly hellish. The Mahdini patrol had trotted along briskly, bouncing him like a basketball. He had been sick so many times that there was absolutely nothing left in his stomach. His abdominal muscles ached from the continuous dry heaving, and he was sure that the lining of his esophagus was shredded.

Trip’s misery left him indifferent to the aliens’ reaction to their first human. He maintained his silence—no difficulty in his weakened and queasy state—and listened dimly to the Mahdini conversation going on over his head.

His presentation at the main building of the Mahdini weapons complex created quite a stir. The human was quickly surrounded by scientists who all assumed that he had come from the disabled vessel that orbited their planet. Speculation about his appearance, his species, and the reason for his presence flew fast and furious.

“Could they be attempting to communicate with us?”

“They’re not very good at it, if that’s the case. This one can’t even speak!”

“Why would they send a blind individual?”

“Maybe that’s their natural eye color.”

“It’s obviously quite ill. Perhaps, in desperation, they are jettisoning those too weak to be useful?”

“Didn’t the Protectors mention...”

“Mention what?”

“I could be wrong...”

”Spit it out, man!”

“That some aliens have the ability to create a biological weapon? A disease transferred by medium of a living host?”

The worried scientist’s speculation created a deadly silence. Trip sensed, rather than saw, a general retreat from his prone form. Then conversation continued, taking on a more sinister tone.

“I knew it! I knew we should have contacted the Protectors immediately!”

“We must destroy it, before its disease can spread!”

Yes, please, Trip begged silently. Listen to that guy!

“No, the Protectors will be better able to find a cure if the host is alive!”

“At the very least, we must quarantine it!”

“Aren’t we all infected now?”

This question brought another terrified silence. Finally, another scientist spoke hesitantly.

“We...the majority of us...should be fine,” he hemmed. “Only those who touched the creature are likely to be infected.” The four guardsmen who had brought Trip in shifted uneasily and shared worried glances. The scientist became increasingly confident, having hit upon a solution that was to his liking. “Which is convenient! They can stay and watch the alien. The rest of us can move to safety!”

Oh, please! Trip groaned inwardly at the self-serving hypothesis. How transparent is that?

However questionable the conclusion, all the scientists agreed with it, as it allowed them to flee the potential danger. Orders were issued to contact the Protectors and to have all available guardsmen scour the perimeter for more aliens, while Mir-Dan and his patrol stayed to monitor the captured specimen. Within minutes, the main building of the weapons complex of Modinok was empty except for four terrified Mahdini guardsmen and a single nauseated human.

Mir-Dan was taken aback by the unexpected turn of events. Confronted with a problem beyond his expertise, his professionalism vanished. He exchanged panicked looks with his patrol and finally came to a decision.

“Geerkha! You...you stay here and guard the alien!” the patrol leader ordered his most junior subordinate. “The rest of us will...will join the search for additional alien incursions!” The other two guardsmen nodded eagerly in agreement.

“But..but Mir-Dan...” Geerkha protested, aghast at the thought of being left alone with the infected alien.

“Are you questioning your superior, Guardsman!?!?” Mir-Dan shrieked, a tad hysterically.

“N-no, sir, but...”

“Good! We’ll...we’ll check back with you once we’ve conducted our search!”

And with that, Mir-Dan and the other two guardsmen fled the building.

Wow, thought Trip, sympathetic towards the youthful Mahdini in spite of his own misery. That’s just messed up.

* * *

“Captain!”

Hoshi, excited that she finally had something to report, used a voice that was perhaps a bit louder than necessary. Her exclamation certainly made everyone on the bridge jump.

“Lieutenant?” Archer queried as calmly as possibly, surreptitiously feeling his heart to make sure that it was still in his chest.

“There’s a subspace signal sir. It’s coming from Modinok!” the Communications Officer stated.

“Are they hailing us?” Archer asked, wondering why they should do so now, after ignoring Enterprise for hours.

“No, sir,” the linguist responded, a bit puzzled herself. “It isn’t directed at us!”

“It would appear,” supplied Kras in his calm, laconic way, “that the signal is a beacon or an alert of some sort, intended for communication over great distances.”

The bridge was silent for several moments as the bridge personnel processed the Vulcan’s statement. From the apprehensive looks he saw, Archer suspected that most were reaching the same conclusion that he had.

“They’re sending a message to whoever gave them that technology,” the captain voiced the conclusion.

“A logical assumption,” agreed Kras.

Archer pressed his lips together, thinking. “Continue scans,” he directed, “but extend them to the farthest range possible. I want to know the second any alien ships are detected.”

As Kras moved to comply, Archer once again began to pace the bridge.

He wished he was still playing Twenty Questions.

Chapter 10

Geerkha stood with his back to the wall as far from the alien as possible. While he was most likely contaminated already, it couldn’t hurt to take preventive steps.

“Hey!” a voice whispered.

Geerkha’s ears swiveled around as he tried to identify the location of the speaker.

“Hey, I won’t hurt you!” came the voice again.

The young Mahdini gaped at the still figure on the floor against the opposite wall. Had the alien just spoken to him? It’s disturbingly pale eyes were definitely turned in his direction. It held some kind of device in its right hand.

“Quiet!” Geerkha ordered, his voice more high-pitched than normal. “Be quiet, you!”

“Not dangerous,” the alien continued, ignoring him. “Not contagious.”

“Then why are you so ill?” Geerkha demanded angrily. How dare the alien contaminate him and then offer reassurances!

“Your planet. Something here,” the alien responded.

“My planet is a very healthy place!” huffed the Mahdini, offended that the alien seemed to be impugning his home.

“For you,” it retorted.

“If my home is so unhealthy to you, why did you come here?” Geerkha asked accusingly.

“To free...ship.”

“The ship up there?” Geerkha pointed. “The one that has come to enslave my people?”

The alien’s eyelids, which had been drooping wearily as it spoke, popped open wide. “Enslave?!” it squawked in disbelief. It stared at Geerkha with its mouth open for a moment. “What the...who...why would you think anyone’s going to enslave you?!?” it sputtered indignantly. The effort left it gasping, but it kept its narrowed eyes on Geerkha, apparently outraged at the charge.

The creature’s shock and anger were more convincing to Geerkha than its words. Obviously enslaving the Mahdini had never crossed the alien’s mind! “They...the Protectors warned us that there are many aliens who try to enslave those who are less advanced,” he explained defensively. “Perhaps we were mistaken in our assumption that you were one of those species?”

“Damn right!” grumbled the alien, obviously still insulted by the accusation.

There was a moment of silence between them. “Why are you here then?” the young Mahdini pressed, curious now.

“To free the ship,” the alien repeated.

“Yes, I know that,” Geerkha replied patiently. “But why was your ship here in the first place?”

“Exploring. To learn about other places, other people,” came the ready reply. The statement was infused with a sort of pride that whetted Geerkha’s curiosity.

“Why would you want to do that?” he queried, intrigued at the idea.

The alien opened its eyes wide again, startled by the question. “Why wouldn’t you?” it countered.

To that Geerkha had no response.

* * *

Damn, Trip thought, closing his eyes and breathing deeply to calm his stomach. Kras wasn’t kidding when he said that these Mahdini were hidebound and xenophobic!

What kind of people wouldn’t want to go exploring? Wouldn’t even think to do it?

Still, the kid seemed nice, and he certainly had gotten a bum deal, being stuck with the diseased alien. The engineer’s humor and good-nature allowed him to momentarily overcome his physical distress. Might as well be friendly. He certainly wasn’t up to much else at the moment.

“My name’s Trip. What’s yours?” he asked the kid.

The Mahdini immediately became suspicious again. “Why do you want to know?”

Trip blinked and unthinkingly said the first thing that came to his mind. “My mom taught me to be polite.”

The kid was dumbfounded by the unexpected response. Trip watched various expressions flit across the alien face.

He’s kinda like a big peach, with cat’s ears and black button eyes, the engineer mused.

“Yours, too?” Trip asked, testing a theory.

The Mahdini nodded, a slightly embarrassed look overtaking the other facial expressions. “Yes, she did,” he verbally acknowledged his mother’s training before going on. “I am called Geerkha.”

Trip smiled weakly. “Nice ta meetcha, Geerkha.”

“I am pleased to meet you, Trip,” the young Mahdini responded formally.

Then, as if making a difficult decision, he moved toward the human, slowly. When he was within arm’s reach of Trip, Geerkha squatted comfortably on his haunches, tipping his head to one side and flicking his ears forward.

“You are a very interesting alien, Trip. Could you please tell me more about your exploring?” The young Mahdini requested politely, seeming determined to demonstrate his own good manners.

The engineer felt his mouth stretch into a grin. This was going to be an interesting first contact. He wondered if he’d get any credit for it.

* * *

“Captain, long range sensors detect three alien vessels approaching,” Kras announced calmly.

Archer, who had been dreading this moment, stopped pacing to look at the Vulcan. “How long before they get here?”

“At their present speed, they should arrive in the Modinok system within 6 hours and 42 minutes,” Kras calculated.

The captain took a moment to do some calculations of his own. “We’ll give the away team those 42 minutes. If we haven’t heard from them by then, we’ll break communications silence and contact them.” Archer turned to Hoshi and continued. “Lieutenant, hail the Karil. If they don’t respond, continue hailing them every ten minutes. Maybe, if we can contact them, they’ll have some ideas.”

Archer began pacing again. Although he didn’t want to consider the possibility, he began to formulate alternate plans in case contact with the away team resulted in bad news.

* * *

T’Pol and Malcolm sped along the path to their final destination. They had encountered no resistance at the fourth power relay, and Malcolm expected none. Given the lax security that he had seen, not to mention the extremely unprofessional patrol, it was highly unlikely that the Mahdini had anything more up their collective sleeves. Still, one couldn’t be too cautious.

The thought had no sooner entered his head when his tricorder alerted him to the presence of a large group of Mahdini moving in their direction. He signaled to T’Pol, and the two of them moved silently from the path and deeper into the woods. With any luck, they could continue on to the fifth power relay once this group had passed.

The Armory Officer soon realized the futility of his hopes. This patrol was much larger than the first. In addition, they were making organized forays into the woods off the path. Obviously they were conducting a structured search.

Trip must have been captured, Malcolm realized. He glanced at T’Pol, seeing that she had come to the same conclusion.

As they crouched on the floor, Reed’s tricorder again beeped. Malcolm looked at it in disbelief. Another group of Mahdini was coming up behind them from the direction of the fourth power relay. He and T’Pol stared at each other in horror.

They were trapped.

* * *

Geerkha was enthralled. He had never known anyone like the alien—the human! And yet at the same time, the human—Trip, he reminded himself—seemed as ordinary as any of the neighbors in the habitation ring where he had grown up. Trip had explored so many different worlds, but his family sounded much like Geerkha’s own, right down to their strict mothers!

The Mahdini gazed wistfully at his friendly alien companion. Trip had seen and done more in his life so far than Geerkha would if he lived to be 200!

Still, Geerkha pondered doubtfully, his explorations have brought him here—to an uncertain fate.

Trip moaned, his face buried in his arms.

Not to mention making him hideously ill! Geerkha thought as he observed the human’s distress.

The Mahdini sat quietly, waiting for his friend’s latest bout with the illness to pass. He found himself staring at the human’s pelt, reminded of a childhood trip to a zoological garden. There had been a stately zagat lying near the bars of its enclosure. The creature’s glorious golden fur had looked so soft that Geerkha decided he had to touch it. Quickly and quietly, before the keeper, his mother, or even the zagat knew what he intended, Geerkha had reached through the bars to stroke the animal’s fur.

His mother had boxed his ears soundly and grounded him from his toys for a week. But it had been worth it!

Geerkha gazed at Trip’s fur. Was it as soft as the zagat’s had been? He stretched his hand to find out.

A little damp, Geerkha thought. Not surprising, considering how much the human was perspiring. But his fur was definitely as soft as the zagat’s.

The alien’s startled expression at being petted was much the same as the zagat’s as well. Geerkha almost laughed, but then realized that he might have committed a serious breach of etiquette by touching the human’s fur uninvited!

“Forgive me, Trip!” he apologized hurriedly. “It’s just...no Mahdini have fur like yours, and I wanted to see what it felt like!”

His friend looked bemused for a moment, but then gave a weak laugh. “Don’t worry about it, Geerkha. Seems like you’ve started your career in exploration already,” he chuckled. “Only...humans call it ‘hair.’ On animals it’s fur, on humans it’s hair.”

Geerkha smiled at the good-natured correction, relieved that he had not offended the gentle alien.

“Geerkha!” a stentorian bellow made them both jump. “What in the name of the gods are you doing so close to the alien?! It could attack you!”

It was Mir-Dan, and he was livid with fury. Obviously he had been ordered back to the main building and didn’t like it one bit. Geerkha knew the patrol leader would never have returned of his own volition.

The young Mahdini leaped to his feet. “Mir-Dan! I...Was the search successful?” Geerkha attempted to distract his superior. He realized that explaining Trip to Mir-Dan would be difficult, if not impossible.

Mir-Dan glowered for a moment, organizing his thoughts. “Yes!” he snapped. “Two more aliens like that one!” Behind him, Geerkha heard Trip draw a panicked breath. “Who knows how many more are roaming the compound!” Mir-Dan cried to the heavens, unaware of the affect his words had on the human.

Geerkha, however, turned. “Trip? You weren’t alone?” he tried not to sound accusatory, but he felt slightly betrayed.

The human had the grace to look guilty. “They’re my friends,” Trip pleaded. “Just tryin’ to free the ship.”

Before Geerkha could respond, Mir-Dan moved forward aggressively. “Are you talking to that alien? What lies has it been telling you?” The patrol leader’s eyes narrowed menacingly. “How does it know our language?”

Geerkha stepped in his superior’s path, trying to protect the human from Mir-Dan’s ire. “He doesn’t. He has a little machine, see?” Geerkha pointed out the communicator in Trip’s right hand. “It helps him understand people on different planets.” Geerkha looked over his shoulder at Trip, then back at Mir-Dan. “We’ve been talking. He’s very nice. Very friendly. His people don’t—”

“What lies has it been telling you?” Mir-Dan repeated. “Do you think the Protectors don’t know what its kind are capable of? Why do you think they warned us? Gave us the Shield? Told us to communicate only with them?” Mir-Dan shoved Geerkha aside. “It’s to protect us from creatures like this one. They can’t be trusted!”

Mir-Dan raised his light-rifle over his head and brought it down on the communicator with all his strength. Geerkha watched in horror as the little device was crushed by the blow—as were many of the bones in Trip’s hand, if the sound were anything to go by.

The human drew in an agonized breath but was unable to scream. Mir-Dan kicked the wrecked communicator across the floor, striking Trip’s hand again in the process. This blow finally elicited a strangled cry of pain, followed by choking sounds, and then the human was vomiting again, all over Mir-Dan’s feet.

The patrol leader leaped back in disgust and fear, stamping his feet to remove the mess before whirling on Geerkha. “Get out!” he roared. “You obviously can’t be trusted to do the job right!” When his subordinate hesitated, Mir-Dan bellowed again. “Get out now, Geerkha!”

The young Mahdini gave the human one last look and ran from the room.

* * *

However vile he felt, Trip was quite proud of his last regurgitative feat. Not only had his stomach not been as empty as he had thought, he had also managed to deposit the mess on the shoes of the bastard who had just turned his right hand into a maraca.

His actions had the added benefit of encouraging the vicious prick to keep his distance. Trip suspected that the Mahdini would enjoy giving him a few more whacks with the rifle butt, but he didn’t want to chance getting puked on again.

Every cloud has a silver lining, Trip thought. Now if I could only get the son of a bitch near enough to plug him with my phaser!

Trip hadn’t even considered using the phaser on Geerkha. The kid was just too sweet. But this guy? In a minute! And now he had the added pressure of needing to do something to help Malcolm and T’Pol.

The engineer raised his head from his forearms and looked slowly around the room, taking in the details as thoroughly as he could through his blurry eyes. This was the Mahdini central command. There had to be something here that he could mess with that would help their cause. Finally, his engineer’s eye spotted what he would swear was a generator of some kind. If he could use his phaser on that, it would surely cause a power outage. It wasn’t much, but it should create some confusion that might give their mission a fighting chance.

Trip eyed the Mahdini who was pacing and muttering to himself. Mir-Dan, Geerkha had called him. He doubted the man would kill him, but he might use the rifle butt again. Still, he’d have to get close to do that. Trip reached into his jumpsuit pocket with his functioning hand and palmed the phaser he had hidden there. Then he took a deep breath and began to crawl toward the generator.

It took Mir-Dan nearly a minute to realize that his prisoner had an agenda other than lying on the floor moaning. He barked angrily at Trip, gesturing wildly, but did not move from his position.

You sure don’t wanna get puked on again, do you? Trip thought vindictively as he continued to crawl towards his objective. Hah!

Now Mir-Dan took several steps towards Trip, yelled, advanced a few more paces, and yelled again.

Fuck you, Charley, Trip quipped silently. Can’t tell what you’re sayin’. Shouldn’t have busted that UT.

Finally Mir-Dan’s impatience overcame his fear. He stomped across the room and grabbed the human by the ankle, intending to drag him back to his original spot. Trip yelped and rolled onto his back, raising both arms as if to shield his head from a blow. Mir-Dan’s torso was less than a meter from his outstretched arms. Even with his fried brain, he couldn’t miss at this distance.

Trip leveled the phaser and fired. The Mahdini toppled backward like a fallen tree.

Trip immediately rolled back onto his stomach to resume crawling, but he had to take a moment to focus on the generator, breathing deeply to dispel the nausea. Then he crawled.

And crawled. And crawled. And crawled.

It hadn’t seemed this far from the other side of the room! Apparently his depth perception was as screwed up as most of his other brain functions. Trip gritted his teeth and continued the interminable journey. Finally, his outstretched hand made contact with the generator.

The engineer dropped his head, gasping in relief, but he allowed himself only a moment to regroup before moving on to find and remove the access panel. Where the fuck was it? Oh, here. After much pounding, yanking, and swearing, he finally managed to remove it. He quickly surveyed the grid, trying to identify the most vulnerable spot. As soon as he settled on a target, he primed the phaser to maximum, leveled it, and fired.

Once again, however, his depth perception proved faulty. The generator grid blew up in a shower of sparks and flames. His left hand was too close to the fireworks to avoid damage. Trip, of course, did not realize this until it was too late. All he knew was that there was a flash of light, the phaser went flying across the room, and he was screaming like a teenage girl, whacking his left arm against the floor to put out the flames.

He didn’t even notice that all the lights in the complex had gone out.

* * *

Sub-Commander T’Pol and Lieutenant Malcolm Reed sat on the forest floor surrounded by innumerable agitated Mahdini. Once their superior numbers had become clear, T’Pol made the decision that they would not resist. It proved to be a good move, as the Mahdini were obviously fearful and trigger-happy.

And not a one of them had the faintest idea what to do with their captives. In fact, they seemed to have no wish to come anywhere near the human and the Vulcan. Reed had holstered his phaser, T’Pol had pocketed her tricorder, and the two of them had been left alone. Though they were surrounded by Mahdini, none of their captors seemed willing to come within three meters of them.

“Any ideas, Sub-Commander?” Malcolm asked.

“Not at the moment,” T’Pol responded, surveying their captors. “Their numbers are too great. Any escape attempt would most likely result in severe injuries, if not death.”

Reed grimaced at the pessimistic but accurate assessment. “It seems our only option is to wait and see what happens,” he conceded.

“Agreed.” T’Pol continued to scan the area. Malcolm suspected that he knew what was on her mind.

“Do you think Trip’s okay?” he asked.

T’Pol gave him a wary look. “It is useless to speculate,” she stated in her most distant, Vulcan manner. Chastised, Malcolm shut up, hugging his knees and looking at the ground. After several moments of silence, however, T’Pol appeared to soften. “Do you truly believe that he is intimidated by me?”

The abrupt change of tone and subject nearly gave Malcolm whiplash. Where had that come from? Was this deathbed confession brand openness? And when had he become the confessor of choice for angsty Vulcans?

The Armory Officer shook his head, both at the confusing situation and at his inability to answer her question. “I don’t know, T’Pol,” he responded truthfully.

“Perhaps that is the reason he turned to Lieutenant Sato,” T’Pol reflected morbidly. “He finds her less...intimidating.”

For some completely irrational reason that he would never be able to explain, Malcolm took exception to her assumption about Trip and Hoshi. “You believe the rumors that they are having an affair?”

She looked askance at his condemning tone. “Do not you believe the same thing?”

“I do not want to believe it,” he waffled. That was true enough.

T’Pol sighed. “All the evidence suggests otherwise. It is the logical assumption.”

Unaccountably, Malcolm found himself paraphrasing Hoshi’s response to his own presuppositions. “Well, Sub-Commander, you know what they say about people who assume things.”

The Vulcan turned to him, raising an eyebrow. Apparently, she did not know.

Malcolm attempted to explain the play on words. “They put an ass...I mean, you—no, it puts an ass in front of...I...oh, never mind.”

Reed sighed and sank his head into his palm, wishing that he could wake up from this incredibly bad dream.

* * *

Trip lay on his side, limp and lifeless after another bout of dry heaves. He was completely spent physically, and his brain was wandering. The pain in both hands had subsided to a dull throbbing, which didn’t exactly feel good, but at least it was bearable.

But his aching head rested on the access panel, which was nice and cool.

Nice and cool.

Alien access panel, he crooned to it, you are my only friend. Thank you for being cool on my head, alien access panel.

He chanted this mantra to himself several times when a noise at the far end of the room distracted him. Trip pressed his face harder into the cool access panel, fearing that they might take it away from him. Dimly he heard whispered voices coming nearer.

No, he thought fiercely. I won’t leave my access panel. You can’t make me.

Now the voices were directly above him. They were talking about him. And he was shocked to realize that he understood what they were saying!

“Terrasu! ” one voice said in surprise. “Yel-Halitra!”

A human, Trip translated in wonder. From Starfleet.

He opened his eyes to find two Vulcans—a male and a female—staring down at him.

Trip stared back, amazed. His addled brain could come up with only one conclusion.

T’Luki and Sonok have come to rescue me.

Part 6 Chapters 11 & 12

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

interesting this gets better everytime...keep it coming please:-D

Very good and really entertaining. Poor Trip, I laughed out loud so many times while still feeling sorry for him. Hope the Vulcans help him and manage to sort out the mess before someone gets really badly fried. Ali D :~)

Graphically disgusting in places ("eeeuuuw...alien puke!")as promised, but very funny! Interesting to see Trip from the alien's POV -- the Mahdini seemed to see him more as an interesting and dangerous animal than a superior (human)being. Looking forward to the next chapter! (I do hope poor Trip gets a break in the next chapter. This one was hard on him!)

Good chappie! Hope to see more soon! (And let's hope those Vulcans are friendly and have a plan... didn't sound like they knew what Trip was doing there).

Very entertaining, I couldn't stop laughing there were so many funny bits. Good to see that the "Damn, yer hot" line did not go unnoticed by T'Pol. Something that is sure to come back, and haunt Trip... in a good way I assume. However, may be I shouldn't make any assumptions... you know what they say about people who make assumptions :D

Vulcans to the rescue? Where did they come from... hmm, interesting. Great Chapter. Looking forward to your next posting.

This story is getting better and better. I laughed so hard reading this chapter. Please update soon. Poor Trip. And poor Malcolm playing counsellor to T'Pol.

Oh god you just HAVE to give us more soon!!!! I'm dying here!!!! I'm just in love with this fic right now!!!! Oh this just get's better and better!!!!! More please!!!!!

Let's hope that Trip doesn't go delerious and try to fufill his promise of shooting T'Luki and Sonok with his phaser if they take away the alien access pannel! Please update soon! I'm loving this!

"T’Luki and Sonok have come to rescue me. " LOL!

While Trip has my deepest sympathies, there's some measure of humor in all of this. I really shouldn't be laughing when Trip vomits, but I find myself doing so.

Great update!

Poor, poor Trip! What a great chapter. And the best: T`Pol´s "Hot"-discussion with Malcolm, poor guy. Please continue!!

Great stuff. More Please.

No, no, no, no, no. Best lines: "Eeugh. Alien puke!" and "Alien access panel, you are my only friend. Thank you for being cool on my head, alien access panel."

Great stuff. I want to see more.

2 Vulcans huh.... probably come from the ship... Trip said that there where 102 and later someone on the bridge said that there was 100 there...???

hmmmmmmm waiting is such an evil thing....

I was just listening to that Bill Cosby routine last week! Although, I must admit another Cosby line first came to mind from another monologue-"The Playground" where Cosby is refering to the *merry-go-round*. "I want something that goes around in a circle for five minutes and then puke!" It just seemed appropriate considering the circumstances. :) Poor Trip. Poor, poor Trip.
So, are T'Luki and Sonok warm and dry or wet and cold? And did they bring the nice pet with them or the Vulcan-eater?
I love your comic timing.
As Oliver Twist always says "Might I have some more please?" Update soon!

I am enjoying this story very much. I liked Geerkha and how he gave in to his curiosity and touched Trip's fur. That scene was hilarious. :-) Please hurry with the next chapter, I really want to know how this story unfolds; it's both exciting and funny so far!