Examinations-Pt. 2

Examinations
Part Two

by Thinkey

PG-13
Disclaimers in Part One

She stepped back out of the room and looked squarely at him. "Shall I show you to the environmental controls, Commander?" He nodded slightly as she led the way down the corridor and to a turbolift. Their footsteps echoed throughout the hallway, giving Trip a strange sense of unease.

"Will you be around while I'm down here? Wherever, making repairs?" Trip asked as the turbolift opened onto a large room that resembled Engineering back on Enterprise. They stepped off the lift; Trip placed his toolbox down on a console and took a look around the place. It felt empty.

"I will be upstairs in the main room doing my research. I believe you know the way."

With that, she turned and made her way back to the turbolift. Trip stood in the middle of the room with, his mouth gaping open. Had she just insulted him? It certainly sounded like it. He was about to bark something back at the ascending turbolift, but he decided to save it for later - they had over 72 hours of insults to exchange. He could end up running low toward the end.

Trip pushed those thoughts aside and turned towards the room before him. Just him and T'Pol. And an environmental system to fix. How exciting. He sighed as he walked to the nearest computer console, ready to begin troubleshooting the problem. The anxiety caused by their situation struck him again and he tried to push those feelings aside, with little success. It was going to be a couple of long days.

***

The Mess Hall was quiet, with the exception of the occasional beep coming from the mobile device Reed was working on. The little pad-like computer held all the information he needed to help him with his torpedo problem.

It made no sense. Torpedoes were essentially bombs - back in the 20th century, some even used to detonate by mistake. This one didn't want to detonate at all. It was as if it were daring him to do something drastic. He frowned as he skimmed through the specs yet again. It had to be over forty times tonight he'd reread that same section - for all intents and purposes he had it memorized, but against all logic he read it over again and again, hoping to gain some insight.

"Burning the midnight oil?" a familiar voice asked. Reed gazed up from his pad to see Hoshi standing before him, a glass of milk at hand. Her charming smile made him sigh and he offered her a seat at his table.

"Trouble sleeping?" Reed asked, placing the pad on the table for a moment to talk with his fellow officer. Hoshi sighed and nodded while taking a sip of the milk.

"I'm still getting used to the sleeping thing," she explained. "The Captain changed my quarters months ago, but I'm still not really used to it. It seems my body knows I'm not on a planet and is fighting back in its own little way. How about you? Any troubles at first?"

"Not really, but I have never been one to sleep much. Four or five hours a night is more than enough for me."

Hoshi smiled. "It must be nice...I can't work with less than seven." Her attention moved to the pad on the table. "What are you working on?"

"The torpedoes," Reed sighed as he fell back into his chair.

"You're still trying to get those modified Klingon torpedoes to work?" she asked, bringing the pad to her side of the table to take a look. "You have more courage than I would have over something like this."

"Is it any different from your patience with languages?" Reed asked.

Hoshi met his gaze and saw the logic in his conclusion. "I guess not," she replied. "I can tell you, however, that when I get frustrated with a language I drop it and leave it alone for a while. Sometimes time away will do you good. Helps you come back to it with a new perspective."

She slid the pad back at him and he caught it with his hand, considering her advice. "I guess I have been...obsessing a little too much about this over the past few weeks." He picked up the pad, switching the power down. He smiled at her. "Perhaps a little time away will indeed do me good."

Hoshi smiled and nodded as they both stood up from the table and walked towards the door. "It was nice talking to you, Malcolm. I think I'd better get back to my cabin and get some sleep." Hoshi paused for a moment as she met his eyes. "See you tomorrow."

"Yes, see you tomorrow," he replied and watched she walk away. With a deep breath, he tucked the pad away in his pocket. Maybe he should try getting a few more hours of rest as well. With that thought, he started walking back to his cabin.

He stepped into his small room and the doors closed behind him. He began to unzip his uniform, stripping down to his blue regulation undershirt and boxers. Folding his uniform neatly and placing it on a chair, he stepped towards his little viewpoint to take a look at the space outside. They weren't at warp at the moment - apparently the captain had discovered something of interest in an asteroid field nearby and they had stopped to do some scans.

Reed placed one foot up against the titanium casing along the wall and gazed out the tiny window, lost in thought. It all seemed so peaceful out in space with no distortion from an atmosphere. Almost too peaceful. He stared outside as the minutes passed slowly, and for the first time in a long while he could feel himself growing tired. He blinked a few times, not ready to go to bed just yet.

That was when he saw it.

He saw something...a distortion of the stars...he stared again out the viewpoint, trying to spot it. It was gone. Reed rested an elbow against the bulkhead and sighed. Maybe he was just tired. He hoped so. He had no idea what could cause such a distortion - an ion storm, maybe, but the ship would be feeling it if it were that close.

He pushed away the uneasy feeling, deciding that his mind was playing tricks on him. Walking over to his bed, he pulled down the covers and sat down, removing his undershirt. He tossed it over with his uniform, then climbed under the blankets and reached for the lamp switch.

The cabin went black as he tried to make himself comfortable under the sheets. He closed his eyes, trying not to think about torpedoes. His mind, however, picked the next most unsettling image in his head: the star distortion he thought he'd seen. Sighing to himself, he rolled onto his side.

Maybe, like Hoshi, he could use a glass of warm milk as well.

***

Trip's back ached as he stared up at the circuitry above him. The work was going slower than he'd expected. It was late and he could feel his patience growing thin. Making one more attempt, he brought the hyperspanner closer to the circuit to check it.

Zap! A current of electricity sprang from the circuitry for the fifth time, running from the hyperspanner and into his hand, causing a mild shock as he dropped the tool. Trip sighed; he'd had enough zaps for one day. He closed up the section of circuitry he was working on and slowly slid out from under the computer console, brushing the dust off his arms and legs. The place had certainly not been touched in a long while, Trip deduced. He tossed the hyperspanner into his tool box, deciding it was better off left there since no one was going to touch it.

Shutting down the systems, Trip made his way to the turbolift and keyed in the main floor. He decided to go see what T'Pol was up to, then head straight to bed. He didn't think he could muster up anything more than that after the long day. A good night's sleep might even ease his anxiety about the place.

The turbolift came to a stop; Trip stepped off and made his way up the corridor to the doors of the main room. He swung the door open and stepped into the room. The silence of the room caught his attention and he immediately looked at T'Pol.

The Vulcan was seated in the chair to one side of the room - but she was away from the computer, and looking at him. His stomach did a little flip-flop as he moved forward slightly. "T'Pol? Is everything okay?" he asked.

She did not blink; she did not even move. Her eyes were fixed on his, and in that moment he saw something in her eyes he had never seen there before. Was it fear? Helplessness? A message? "T'Pol...?" he asked again as he began to walk towards her.

An arm suddenly reached out and grabbed him around the waist, hauling him back hastily. Trip gasped for breath as his head was hauled back and something cold and metallic was pressed against his neck. He attempted to turn his head to look at his assailant, but the weapon was pressed even firmer into his neck.

"It would be in your best interests not to move another inch, Charles."

Trip halted his movement as a cold chill ran down his spine at the sound of the man's voice. No one ever called Trip by his first name. He could feel his heart pounding frantically as thoughts from earlier that day came flashing back to him. He gazed at T'Pol, trying to decipher her stare. It was useless.

"What do you want?" he asked as a bead of sweat dropped from his forehead and slid down his cheek. The man holding on to him tightened his grip around Trip's waist; the engineer heard a weapon powering up near his ear. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything.

Trip took a deep breath to calm his raging nerves. In between his breaths, he could hear footsteps approaching from beside him. He looked over as best as he could and saw a taller figure, clothed in a grayish uniform coat and black pants. The being's face, however, was masked behind what looked like an old helmet used in the Roman Empire. It was the last thing Trip had expected to see that day. The figure approached him in utter silence and reached up, rushing through his hair and down alongside his face and jaw. The being's hand felt foreign, slightly unnatural against Trip's skin.

"Never ask us a question," the being spoke from behind the mask. "We're the only ones who can ask questions here."

Trip never broke his gaze with the man, trying to figure out who these people could be. The man suddenly lifted his hand, hitting Trip across the face and sending him to the floor. He reached up to check if his jaw was still in the same place; he looked down at his hand and all he found was blood. Before he had time to react, he felt two hands on his back, hauling him back to a standing position.

"Take him to one of the back rooms. I'll take care of this one over here for now." The masked man motioned toward T'Pol, who remained as silent and still as a statue. For once, Trip wanted more than anything to hear T'Pol speak, but it was a wish he wasn't going to get. He felt himself being hauled back as the masked man turned in T'Pol's direction and moved toward her.

Her eyes were the last thing Trip saw as he was forced through the doors.

***

Archer gazed down at Porthos and sighed. The beagle whined again as it lifted its paw, begging for the morsel of cheese Jon held. Porthos might have been a lower life form, but the dog sure knew what he liked.

"You know, Doctor Phlox will have it in for me if he finds out about this," Jon said. He was rewarded by a low whine from the dog.

"Have it your way." Jon tossed the cheese down to Porthos; the dog jumped on it and devoured it, his tail wagging back and forth.

Jon shook his head and began to walk towards the door of his cabin. Porthos made another whining sound; Jon turned back to look at his pet. The dog turned his head to the side, eyeing his owner pitifully.

Jon sighed and knelt down before the dog as he jumped into his arms, licking his face. "You're spoiled, you know that?" The dog ignored his words and nuzzled his neck, its tail wagging frantically.

Jon sighed, lifted Porthos out of his lap, and placed him back on the floor. "I have to go now, buddy." He petted the top of the dog's head before turning and exiting his quarters.

Jon hated to keep Porthos caged up in his cabin like that, but on a ship the size of this one he had little choice. One choice he hadn't been about to make, however, had been leaving his pet back on Earth. He couldn't imagine a day ithout the little guy around.

Jon passed by a younger crewman and smiled slightly as he made his way to the turbolift. He stepped inside and keyed in the code for the bridge. Resting back against the wall, he watched the little white lights travel from up to down as the lift rose to the bridge. They flickered and flickered, then went black.
Then the turbolift stopped. And the lights went out.

The ship then rocked, tossing Jon blindly against the other side of the lift. His body smashed up against the bulkhead as his head crashed against the wall, his forehead landing on a very sharp piece of bulkhead. He collapsed onto the floor, his forehead aching. The ship rocked frantically again and he rolled around on the floor of the stalled turbolift.

Slowly, Jon crawled to his feet. His arms stretched out, he felt around the small area, trying to locate the comm system. He found it hard to concentrate through the aching pain.

Finally, his hand found the round button that indicated the comm system, and he opened a link with the bridge. "Archer to bridge."

No response. "Archer to bridge. Please respond."

Still nothing. Jon realized that the comm system had to be down. He looked up in the complete darkness of the turbolift and wondered if there was a means of escape from this place. His mind was also pondering what exactly was appening to Enterprise.

He felt along the wall for something to grip on, but it was hard to come by. He sighed, resigned. Of all the things they could have forgotten to design on this ship, a turbolift hatch was one of them.

Jon's eyes were beginning to adjust to the sudden darkness and he spotted a faint red light coming from a ventilation duct in the floor. He knelt down and passed a hand over the duct - from what he gathered in the darkness, he could ddefinitely pass through there. If he could remove the vent, that is. There were ladders embedded within the walls of the elevators in case of failure; Jon suspected that it would be tricky to grab a hold onto the ladder, but it was worth a shot.

He just hoped the ship didn't take any more damage before he could escape.

***

"Please don't tell me that was an ion storm." Reed left his post at Tactical and made his way down to Mayweather's position at the helm.

The young man punched up some information. Confused, Reed looked over the data.

"The sensor readings from the hull plating report high concentrations of radiation." The weapons officer paused for a moment in thought. "Primitive nuclear weapons," he suggested as Mayweather eyed him curiously.

"Why would someone use nuclear weapons in space?" the helmsman asked.

Reed walked from the helm over to T'Pol's station and began running scans. "I think a better question, Mr. Mayweather, is where exactly the people who are firing them are."

The computer worked away as he waited for an answer. The scans finished; Reed was presented with a blank star chart. "Well, it's not coming up on sensors. I guess it could be out of range."

"How far can a nuclear weapon be shot when in space?" Mayweather asked.
Reed sighed. "Have you ever heard of a rail gun, Ensign?"

"Yeah..." Mayweather paused for a moment. "What are you getting at?"

"Theoretically, they could be shot off in one part of the galaxy. If they weren't caught in a gravitational field, they would go on until they...detonated," Reed replied, obviously not liking his own thoughts in this case.

Mayweather didn't like the thought either and frowned. "They were pretty precise if that was the case," he offered.

"Maybe it was a random shot..." Reed postulated.

"Two warheads?" Hoshi reminded him.

Reed considered that fact as well. Something was definitely going on. Last night he was seeing shimmering stars, and now nuclear bombs were attacking them.

He needed to speak to the captain. "Has anyone seen Captain Archer this morning? His duty shift began about 10 minutes ago."

Mayweather looked at Hoshi, then Hoshi looked at Reed, shaking her head. Where was the captain? Reed was growing more and more frustrated by the coment. The two other bridge officers sat silently, waiting for his decision.

"Mr. Mayweather," he said, "take the ship out of warp, then go and try to find the Captain. Ensign Sato, can you get a deck-by-deck damage report?" As the ship came out of warp, Reed turned and made his way to one of the adjacent doors of the bridge. "I'll be in the Armory. You have the bridge."

Reed stepped into the hallway on the other side as the doors closed behind him.
Mayweather stood up, made his way over to the turbolift that led near to the Captain's cabin, and keyed the door.

Nothing.

He tried again, with no luck. "I think the turbolift's down." Hoshi came over and they both examined the door carefully.

"Maybe we should pry it open. The captain could be stuck down there," Mayweather wondered aloud.

"It's your call. But expect Trip to take it up with you at a later time," Hoshi warned. She stepped aside as he managed to grip the ridge of it. Following his lead, she grabbed the other side, and both of them tugged at the same time. after several tugs, the door was about half open - enough to allow entrance.

Mayweather stepped forward and glanced down the dark turboshaft. "I think I'm going to need a flashlight," he sighed.

"Good luck with the climbing," Hoshi offered. Mayweather took another look down and gathered that it had to be about a four-deck climb down to E deck. Maybe less if the lift got stuck in between. More if it was on a lower level.

He hoped the captain was down there.

***

Trip could feel his lower lip pulsing from the bruise that was forming. Whoever the assailant was behind that mask, he sure knew how to throw a backhand. Trip rested his head against the rock wall of the small quarters they were keeping him in. He noticed that they had been very sure to remove any attainable objects from the room before tossing him into it. All that was left were a blanket and something that could be considered a pillow.

Trip wondered who exactly his attackers were. He doubted the Vulcans would be capable of this, and the Andorians were a little more civil these days. He didn't think even the Klingons would be capable of such an act - they didn't seem like the kind to take prisoners.

He shifted the pillow behind his back and sighed. The motive for the attack was
completely unclear to him. He was right about one thing, however - staying down here hadn't been a good idea. If only he had ignored T'Pol's logic and forced her to return to the shuttlepod...

No. Trip sighed and placed his head between his knees. He couldn't blame her for this - neither one of them could be blamed. If anyone was to blame here, it was he for leaving her alone upstairs. His feelings from the beginning had told him it was a bad idea; he should have paid more attention to them and acted upon them, no matter what T'Pol had thought. At least they would have been safe now.

Trip brought his head up and stared at the line of light creeping in from under the door. It was definitely hours since he'd been hauled away from the main room. Why had they taken him instead of T'Pol? What did they want? What were they doing to her? He had no idea - he couldn't hear or see anything from where he was.

He felt helpless.

How had it come to this? It was a simple mission that he hadn't wanted to do in the first place. It all didn't make sense to him - nothing made sense! He tamped his foot on the ground in frustration. His head fell back against the wall and he sighed. Would he get out of here? Was there a means of escape? Where was T'Pol? How was she doing? When would the Captain come back for them? Would they still be here when he did? Was Enterprise under some similar attack? His mind wandered and wandered through the possibilities - and none of them looked good at the moment.

Continued in part 3... OR Back to Part 1...

OR

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