By Didi Disclaimers: Star Trek is owned by the late and great Gene Roddenberry. I own nothing within this story except the improbable idea behind it. Paramount owns the rights to the show and I do wish they would run of the wonderful reruns of the older series. Please don't sue me cause I have no money and will have to pay you in lint. Summery: When one of their own goes missing, Enterprise crew goes on a search as to why. Acknowledgement: To my darling Julie who loves Star Trek and is always willing to listen to me either rag or rave about episodes. Always know that you're opinion is more important than the stupid producers. RATING: Rated R for content. Note: I know that Enterprise hasn't been on television for long and the characterizing of the characters on the show may not be accurate but it's the way I see them. Bear me with here as I attempt to give some life to this. ~~~~~~~~~~ Trettri IV - Trading Post "Tell me why we're here again?" Lt. Travis Mayweather asked as he avoided a rather nasty looking fellow with claws that didn't look all too clean from his last meal. "Cause I'm still at a lost as to why we are here." Captain Jonathan Archer grinned his usual good-natured self and patted the young man on the back. "Cause we are looking to improve our cultural..." he ducked at a tankard of something bright and green sailed over his head and crashed loudly against the far wall. "Experience." "I think we could learn about this in a pub down in Georgia." Charles "Trip" Tucker III laughed as he watched a couple of rather shapely blue haired women dressed in what could be copper wires dance on a stage. "Though the entertainment was never this... strange." "This is hardly the ideal place to be begin your cultural expansion." Their Vulcan Science officer looked about her with her usual cool distain. The rowdy crowd in the club was obviously not to her taste. Plus the unpleasant odor of sweat and alcohol was none too kind to T'Pol's hypersensitive nose. "Human males have been observed to think rather illogically when presented with...." "Men are pigs when presented with a pair of breasts that are hanging out of barely there clothes." Ensign Hoshi Sato smirked in the usual female fashion and pulled out her portable language syntax computer and scan the area. "There are about fifteen languages being spoken here in this room alone. I can only guess how many dialects there are." Archer watched her with amusement. "Okay, while we men ogle the lovely foreigners here, Hoshi would you mind making the rounds and find as much information and languages as you can? We're going to need you to learn as many as you can so we can speak to some of these people." She smiled, knowing that Archer knew her weakness for new languages. "Yes sir." "Mr. Reed, Trip, you guys are going to make sure that Hoshi doesn't get kidnapped or carried off to a harem somewhere." Archer looked over at T'Pol and Mayweather. "We are going to make a little trip to the merchants. See if we can trade for some improvements and information. Be careful guys, and don't piss anyone off." "Yes sir," Trip grinned and made a mock bow. "Come along, Ensign. Time to earn our pay." Hoshi rolled her eyes and angled her body toward the door again. Malcolm Reed, the man with the love for weapons, smiled indulgently and pocketed his phase pistol. "I think we can handle this without any problems." Mayweather's bright smile came in the smoke filled room. "Have fun now." ~~~~~~~~~~ Obianshu walked slowly through the dark corridors, keeping from tripping over the big boxes that were heaped haphazardly along the wall. He wished that his clients were the kind of people that would live at least in decent civilized areas of the trade station. Unfortunately, one was never to meet the good sort when one deals in the trade of information. "Are they here?" the deep voice seemed to have come out of no where behind a crate of rather interesting blue and purple plants. Obianshu jumped a good feet in the air startled enough to put his hand over his two hearts. It took him a moment to get his breath again. "Yes." "And the woman?" "She's headed down to sublevel eight with two of her shipmates." Dark eyes watched the man carefully, gauging the man's truthfulness. With a nod, he dropped a strip of gold into the man's hand. "Then that is where we shall go." ~~~~~~~~~~ Sublevel Eight - Merchants' Lane Archer smiled as he picked up a rather interest pink fruit. "Look at this, it's magenta on the outside and white with black dots on the inside." He held it up to T'Pol. "What is it?" "It's a trula. A native fruit of the third planet in this solar system that is exports for profit over the universe. It is considered a delicacy." T'Pol answered with a rather bored tone that was rather usual for the often bored science officer. The Vulcans had already well mapped this particular sector of the universe. But it was not part of her duties to discourage the crew in this little frivolous affair. Besides which, Archer was not one to be discourage when he finds anything of interest to explore. "I had one once, sir." Travis Mayweather, their shipboard space boomer, smiled and took the fruit. "Tastes kind of like a kiwi." "You've had a kiwi?" Archer was amused. "Yeah, when I was at the academy. Professor Hutinson gave one to me." "You tell me that Hutinson still teaches at the academy?" Trip asked as he came up from behind them. "That man was a hundred if he was a day when I was there." "He was seventy-two, Trip." Archer laughed, remember the gnarled old man who was a taskmaster in quantum physics. How many time did they all get reprimanded for not grasping the concepts fast enough to suit their enthusiastic teacher. "And what are you doing here? Where is Reed and Hoshi?" "Hoshi sat down with a guy to discuss something in a language I can't even pronounce. That girl picked up it faster than a starving horse to the feeding bin. Mr. Reed is keeping an eye on her while I do a little exploring about here." Trip picked up the magenta fruit. "What the heck is this?" To be continued..... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I've never done a Star Trek Fan Fic and I just remembered why. They are so hard to do. But I've been encouraged to do this; so all comments will be helpful. Now, this is a working story so anything goes as far as I'm concern. I don't know where I'm taking this story but it a mission, so don't worry, it won't go on for too long, hopefully. Okay, now go write some helpful comments for me. Thanks a lot. Civilized Savages By Didi Disclaimers: Star Trek is owned by the late and great Gene Roddenberry. I own nothing within this story except the improbable idea behind it. Paramount owns the rights to the show and I do wish they would run of the wonderful reruns of the older series. Please don't sue me cause I have no money and will have to pay you in lint. Summery: When one of their own goes missing, Enterprise crew goes on a search as to why. Acknowledgement: To my darling Julie who loves Star Trek and is always willing to listen to me either rag or rave about episodes. Always know that you're opinion is more important than the stupid producers. RATING: Rated R for content. Note: I know that Enterprise hasn't been on television for long and the characterizing of the characters on the show may not be accurate but it's the way I see them. Bear me with here as I attempt to give some life to this. ~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter Two ~~~~~~~~~~ Sublevel Eight - Nova Cafe Malcolm Reed glanced briefly at the waitress with the shiny green nails walk by, her hind tail swaying enough to catch a dead man's attention. And while he has always been a sensible man when it came to the affairs of the heart, he couldn't help but wonder about his future prospects. With his career destined to be part of a ship crew, he couldn't quite see his future mate as wanting to devote herself to interstellar travel, not many would, even with all the excitement of first contact. They would have to be someone like... Hum.... It was pretty sad that he couldn't name one female in his close acquaintance that would enjoy the prospects of a life in space. The tactical officer glanced briefly over his shoulder at the young Ensign currently engaged in a lively conversation with a man that appeared to have gills in his neck and triple levered noses. The strange almost clicking sound emanating from both made no sense whatsoever to Malcolm but then again, he wasn't the linguistics expert. Turning back to survey the room, he wondered for a moment if he should order a drink or something. The bubbling blue drink looked interesting enough to tempt him. But then again, for all he knew it was some sort of acid that aliens drank to get high. For that he would simply raid Commander Tucker's storage closet of booze. "Lt. Commander Reed?" Hoshi smiled up at the slight man with the dark intense eyes that always seem so serious except when he talks about blowing something up. Hoshi has yet to understand what it was about men and their toys. "Mr. Cliqu-Shue has offered to show me some of his book about his home world. Would that be all right with you?" "You shouldn't be going off with some stranger, Hoshi. And you can call me Malcolm when we're not in front of the Captain or on the bridge." He said in his usual mild manner tone. "I'm not going to go off with a stranger. I've just spent the last hour with this guy, you don't think that I can figure out whether he is trust worthy or not? Besides, I want to find out more about this culture." She smiled again at him, her sweet innocent eyes wide with excitement. "Did you know that they have eighteen different dialects on his planet based on only six tonal sounds made from the palette and tongue? And his planet is 97% water base." "I kind of figured with the gills and all." Malcolm looked over the Ensigns shoulder at the gray-faced man still sitting there patiently for the young woman to return. "I don't think this is a good idea, Hoshi." "The Captain said for me to learn as much as I can while we are orbiting this planet." She pointed out logically. He sighed. Sometime he wondered if all women were partly Vulcans, they all seem to know just when and how to use their left jab of logic when they wanted something that seems too dangerous to be spoken of. It really does amaze him that after centuries of evolution, men has yet to figure out why they are often talked into doing the illogical by women that uses what should appear to be illogical reason. Look at Adam.... "Malcolm," she handed him her translator. "Look at all this. I got this in one sitting with the man. Think of all I can learn with a little bit of literature and music. It'll only take ten minutes. I'll be right back." "Oh no you don't," he shook his head. "If you're going, so am I. I certainly do not want to face Captain Archer's wrath should anything untimely happen to you." He sighed resignedly. "Let's get this over with." "Should we inform Commander Tucker?" She asked, almost glowing with happiness now that she was going to get a chance to expand her knowledge of languages. "Why?" Malcolm shrugged. "It's just a little detour." ~~~~~~~~~~ Sublevel Eight - Merchants' Lane "Captain, you have got to try this." Trip picked up the purple and red fruit. "It tastes just like a Florida peach." "Careful," Travis said with a grin. "I heard Trillians uses that stuff the way humans use prunes." "Huh?" Trip frowned in confusion. Archer bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "What Lt. Mayweather meant was that the fruit is used as a laxative." Trip made a face and put the fruit down slowly as if it suddenly turned into a bomb. "Thanks for the warning after I've had a dozen of them." Jonathan Archer laughed then with great fun. The little side trip to the trading post was turning out to be a whole lot more fun than he had expected. "Oh, relax. I'm sure we can find you a john somewhere around here." "A normal one?" Trip asked with a rolling of his eyes as he remembered a particularly interesting washroom that involved a tub of some sort. Both he and Malcolm Reed turn about and left as quickly as their legs could carry them. Travis Mayweather laughed and continued to scan the area for anything recognizable and interesting to show the good captain. He felt somewhat like a tour guide. Being the only one that's ever really done any extensive space travel, he felt like it was his job to make sure no one step on any ticking bombs. "Hey, it's a..." "Perhaps now would be a good time to remind you that it has been almost two hours since we've parted company with Lt. Reed and Ensign Sato." T'Pol said in her even, emotionless voice. Trip grinned mockingly sweet at her. "But it's only been an hour since I've seen them." The captain frowned. "Do you think it's necessary? I don't want those two to think that I've got no confidence in their ability to play nice with the natives." "I'm sure they're fine." Trip said as he caught the strange little green stick that Lt. Mayweather had tossed to him. "Malcolm will call if there was anything that Hoshi needs. What's this?" "It's call a tongue flute." Travis grinned, showing all this white teeth suddenly, looking very much the young naive man that he was. "My mother was great at playing one of these but I could never quite figure out how to keep from swallowing it." Jonathan and Trip exchanged laughing glances before shaking their heads and continuing on. "Come along T'Pol, I sure everything is fine with those two. Besides, Malcolm knows how to handle himself." "You forget Captain, Ensign Sato has a rather... squeamish nature when it comes to the unknown." The Vulcan was watching everything with careful cautious glances. "Don't worry," Trip reassured them once again. "Hoshi's cute enough when she's into her translator mode to keep from screaming her head off when something strange comes along that might normally frighten her." He rolled his eyes. "I've never seen anyone charm people into babble to her in their native tongue so she could record them and learn to speak it the way she does." "That's why she's here, Trip." Jonathan picked up the clear blue vase with interest. It would look real nice with some irises in them. "Nevertheless..." "T'Pol," Trip sighed. "If you keep this up, I'd have to say that you are playing mother hen to the gal. Sheesh, she ain't a kid no more." T'Pol made no reply to that, her eyes glowed dark with repressed disapproval. She did not like that the away team has been separated for this long with out any word from the other two as to their activities and location. But it was not her place to play "mother-hen" has Commander Tucker so kindly put it. If the Captain did not have any reason to feel concern, then she should not either. Just then, something dark and big passed by the corner of her visual field. Turning forward it, she frowned. There was a moment there that she felt that it looked strangely familiar. But perhaps.... Shaking her head, she dismissed it. It was not of her concern. To be continued.... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Okay, so that's two chapters now. What do you guys think? Is it getting any more interesting? Or do you guys like totally hate it and won't read it unless I paid you to, and even then you're not sure. Civilized Savages By Didi Disclaimers: Star Trek is owned by the late and great Gene Roddenberry. I own nothing within this story except the improbable idea behind it. Paramount owns the rights to the show and I do wish they would run of the wonderful reruns of the older series. Please don't sue me cause I have no money and will have to pay you in lint. Summery: When one of their own goes missing, Enterprise crew goes on a search as to why. Acknowledgement: To my darling Julie who loves Star Trek and is always willing to listen to me either rag or rave about episodes. Always know that you're opinion is more important than the stupid producers. RATING: Rated R for content. Note: I know that Enterprise hasn't been on television for long and the characterizing of the characters on the show may not be accurate but it's the way I see them. Bear me with here as I attempt to give some life to this. ~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter Three ~~~~~~~~~~ Sublevel Eight - Temporary Quarters "Commander, listen to this." Hoshi thrust the earpiece out to him with her eyes all dreamy and beautiful. She had the look of a child given a great present. "Isn't it wonderful? I could listen to this all day." Malcolm frowned as he put the piece to his ear cautiously. "It sounds kind of like the whale calls off the coast of Wales." "Well, they are kind of like echograms." She smiled and pressed the piece to a stop. Brushing a lock of hair back, she looked around their alien host's quarters with great interest. The soft sea-foam green and light blue reminded Hoshi of the Pacific Ocean on clear summer days. "Mr. Cliqu-Shue says that it is a lullaby that they would sing to their children before tucking them into bed." "Do they sleep in beds?" "Well, no." The dainty shoulders came up and down quickly. "They actually sleep in freshwater tanks. Unlike the seas and oceans of Earth, their world is mostly freshwater." "Great for trout fishing." Malcolm said quietly as he kept an eye on Mr. Chiqu-Shue. The man was nice enough but there was something about the way he kept watching Hoshi that Malcolm didn't particularly liked. Like he wanted something from her. Had he been a man of fancy, he might believe that the gilled creature was sweet on the young Ensign. But he knew better than that. Hoshi had made her mission clear to the man right from the beginning. Well, at least he thought she had made it clear. It was hard to tell with all the clicking sounds. "Are we almost done?" She nodded. "I just want to download one more novel that Mr. Cliqu-Shue has recommended. I'm given him some of our literature as well. Do you think 'A Christmas Carol,' 'Moby Dick,' Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet,' "To Kill a Mockingbird," and Edger Allen Poe's "The Raven" is good enough?" "Yeah, sounds like a sufficient range of taste." He glanced at the door suddenly. For a moment, he could have sworn there was something there. Yet gazing at it, he could see that it was empty. Yet he could feel the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand up on ends. "Stay here a second." He instructed as he moved to the door. "What is it, Malcolm?" Hoshi felt the goosebumps on her arms rose to attention. It was never far from the back of her mind that they were the aliens in their travel. These people they visit, want to learn from, know nothing about earth and humans. "Should I call for..." "Don't move," he motion for her to stay back as he leaned over the edge of the open doorway. A flash of something dark turned the corner before he could get a good look at it. "Someone is watching us. I want you to stay here and get the captain on the horn if I don't come back in three minutes. I'm just going to take a peek around the corridors." "But..." she held out a restraining arm. "That's an order, Ensign." He insisted. When she nodded in reluctant response, he headed out the door, phaser first. The hallways were eerily quiet now, where as before it had been crowded with people of Mr. Chiqu-Shue's kind. Something had scared the people that lived periodically on the trading post into hiding. While Malcolm could imagine that the smell in the hallway alone would entrance him to go hide under the cover, there was likely to be a bigger threat than under usage of deodorants to scare these people away. Holding his phaser in front of him, he moved cautiously toward where he had seen the shadowy figure. There were moments like these that made him wonder why he went into Starfleet in the first place. Heck, he could be sitting safely somewhere on earth researching the amount of damage a phaser rifle would have on a Klingon armor. But no, he was walking around in a dimly lit corridor where not even dogs would.... Malcolm never saw the blow come, nor than would he have had any real chance defending himself from his assailant. In the end, it was all rather quiet. ~~~~~~~~~~~ Sublevel Eight - Merchants' Lane "Captain," T'Pol felt the need to try once again. She's never been an overly cautious type, at least not compared to most of her kind. But there was something about the silence from the other two that was penetrating her usual peace. "I believe it is time to check on Lt. Cdr. Reed and Ensign Sato. We have yet to hear from them in some time now." Archer sighed. He had always been taught that Vulcans had no emotion whatsoever. But the way Sub commander T'Pol has been after him about checking up on their two wondering crewmembers, he would think that she cared about them. With an indulging smile, he nodded his head. "All right, I guess it is about time that we headed back to the ship for the night." Taking his communicator out, he suddenly remembered that he had to ask Trip to replace the one he lost several days ago in his quarters. He has yet to locate the darn thing, though he had a sneaking suspicion that Porthos had something to do with it. "Captain Archer to Lt. Commander Reed." There was silence as Trip and Travis continued to exclaim over a strangely shaped statue that resembled something out of a bad sci-fi movie in the early 20th century. Only this one they knew to be life like since the woman it was model after stood not three feet from it, with the same amazingly large feet as in the statue. "Archer to Reed, come in Malcolm." Jonathan looked up to see his science officer arch her brow. "I'm sure that it's nothing to...." The static that came through the communicator caught Tucker and Mayweather's attention. "Captain Archer to Ensign Sato. Hoshi?" Commander Tucker had always been one to believe in being a cautious man. "Commander Tucker to Lt. Commander Reed. Hey Malcolm, answer your damn communicator. You're freaking out the captain here." Still nothing. Tucker and Archer traded concerned glances. Trip's blue eyes reflected his disgust with himself for not having stayed with the two. "Maybe it's time we headed back toward the Nova Café, Captain." Archer nodded his head seriously. "Good idea." To be continued... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Curve ball? What curve ball? I think I've made it pretty obvious who is going to get snatched by now. Civilized Savages By Didi Disclaimers: Star Trek is owned by the late and great Gene Roddenberry. I own nothing within this story except the improbable idea behind it. Paramount owns the rights to the show and I do wish they would run of the wonderful reruns of the older series. Please don't sue me cause I have no money and will have to pay you in lint. Summery: When one of their own goes missing, Enterprise crew goes on a search as to why. Acknowledgement: To my darling Julie who loves Star Trek and is always willing to listen to me either rag or rave about episodes. Always know that you're opinion is more important than the stupid producers. RATING: Rated R for content. Note: I know that Enterprise hasn't been on television for long and the characterizing of the characters on the show may not be accurate but it's the way I see them. Bear me with here as I attempt to give some life to this. ~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter Four ~~~~~~~~~~ Sublevel Eight - Temporary Quarters Hoshi glanced fretfully at the empty door way and clutched her communicator. Biting her lower lip, she decided to give the Commander another minute to come back. This was not the time to panic and make a complete fool of herself. "Come on, Malcolm. Where are you?" "I'm sure it is nothing, my lady." Mr. Chiqu-Shue's voice was gentle, almost sympathetic as he poured some wine into two goblets. "Have some of this, very good for the calming of the soul." She smiled and took the glass politely without any intention of trying the green liquid that hissed and popped in the glass. "I know that this must seem a bit overly cautious of Malcolm but..." "No, no," he waved one webbed hand with total understanding. "A man must always protect what is in his care. He is correct to want to protect you. I would no doubt do the same were I in his place." He nodded and smiled as his eyes traveled lazily down the length of Hoshi's body as she continuously looked over her shoulder at the empty doorway. "Yes, I believe that if I had you in my care, I would do whatever is necessary to protect such a fine..." He suddenly stood straighter, his eyes focused on something past Hoshi's shoulders. Turning about, the young Asian woman was surprised to see another of Mr. Chiqu-Shue's species standing with a rather amused gaze at the door. The man wore a smirk and spoke in a manner that made Hoshi nervous. "Well, what do we have here..." "Obianshu," Chiqu-Shue frowned, strangely concerned. While the young ensign may not know the business in which Obianshu deals in, he certainly did. "What are you doing here?" "And how did you get pass Lt. Commander Reed?" Hoshi asked, more shocked than afraid. She knew from reading personnel records that Malcolm Reed had one of the most impressive track records for security operations. "Where is..." She took several steps back as three massive creatures.... Amend that, she knew exactly what they were. "Klingons." The three towering figures glanced at each other. Hoshi was sure not one was under seven feet in height and about as wide across as she was tall. They were all wearing various armor-like uniforms with more metal and leather than she's seen at a rock concert. The one with the big black chest plate snorted with amusement. "This frail little thing?" "She is exactly as described." A blood red patch covered the second warrior's left eye. There was a strange black marking on the red that made Hoshi believe that it was a symbol of status. "Let us finish this." "And the price?" The oily man asked with a grin. Chiqu-Shue looked as surprised by this turn of events as Hoshi was feeling. "Obianshu, what are you doing?" He moved to put Hoshi behind him, bravely putting his fate in the hands of the three massive mountains in his quarters. "You will not harm the young lady." Obianshu smiled, reminding Hoshi of a snake in the grass. "They have no intentions of hurting the child. They merely want to borrow her for a bit." "Borrow?" Hoshi asked, her fears beginning to catch up with her. Coupled by her suddenly and sure concern for Lt. Commander Reed. "What have you done to Malcolm?" "The pale pasty man?" The third Klingon had a long ugly scar across his cheek sneered with disgust. "We should have sent him to what god he prays to." "You killed him?" Hoshi hadn't realized that her voice rose to a painfully squeaky tone. The three Klingon's made grunts of discomfort as Mr. Chiqu-Shue laid a calming hand on her arm. "Don't irritate them." Her eyes were wide with not fear, but gravely sadness. "We did not kill the little man," Metal chest answered. "He sleeps with a big bump on the head." She literally withered with relief. The thought of seeing another dead body was not one she looked forward to. Plus the fact was she rather liked Malcolm, he has always been kind to her. Now that she knew that he was safe, even if he was going to wake up with possibly the worse headache in the history of headaches, she could concentrate on her own problems. And problems she had plenty, including the three Klingon warriors in front of her. "What do you want?" "You will come with us." The warrior with the red patch stated simply, as if it was never in doubt. "And if I don't?" She was rather surprised at her own boldness there. The three Klingons obviously liked that she at least showed some spirit. "Then you're friend will not live to see another moon." She didn't doubt from the long curved knife that scar face pulled out that they were telling her the truth. "What could you possibly want from me?" The three traded looks, as if that answer had to be obvious. "Your skills." ~~~~~~~~~~ Sublevel Eight - Nova Cafe "Bartender said that he saw all three heading toward the temporary quarters that the station assign to traveling merchants." Travis reported, his usually youthful smooth brows marred with concern for their missing teammates. He knew better than most the danger that one faced in space. "Trip, what's the guy's name?" Archer asked, he was more worried over the situation than he would like the others to think. While he trusted that Malcolm was a good soldier and would no doubt protect Hoshi to the best of his ability and that they should both be fine, the fact was that they lost communications with them and now they were no longer where they were suppose to be. "Chew-Shew something." Tucker ran his hand through his dark blond hair in a nervous gesture that Archer recognized all too well. "I didn't catch everything that was being said. There was all them clicking." "You were not paying attention." T'Pol announced, rather irritated that they must rely on the spotty memory of the irresponsible commander to find their missing crew. "T'Pol," Archer warned. "Now is not the time." "She's right, Cap'ain." Trip wanted to slam his fist into something hard to relieve some of the pent up angry with himself for having left those two alone. "I should have been more careful." "You couldn't have known." Archer said, throwing the Vulcan science officer a look that was meant to reprimand her. But she merely answered with a raised knowing brow. "Let's just find them and get back to the ship." "The temporary quarters usually aren't that big." Travis offered with a sympathetic look for the tormented Commander. "Maybe if we go take a walk through them, we may come across something that will help us. Standard procedure would have Lt. Commander Reed keeping the door open for easy access." "I never understood that," Tucker muttered. "Makes for easy rear attack." "Let's go then," Archer sighed and looked over at the bar counter. "Weapons out, we stick together. No one plays hero, got that?" That last one specifically for Trip. With a quick nod, Mayweather lead the way toward the dimly lit hallway. The strange silence of the living quarters compared to the crowded noisy promenade area made the situation even graver. "I've never seen quarter area this quiet before." Travis whispered, afraid to disturb anything. "Really?" Jonathan was beginning to show the strain of the tension. "Never?" "Never," Travis made a face as a strange smell caught his attention. It was coppery and strangely familiar. "What the..." "Blood," T'Pol announced, her hypersensitive nose wrinkled with distaste. "Blood?" Archer didn't really doubt it, he recognized the smell as well but he did not want to believe it. "Find the source." "I am hardly a bloodhound, Captain." T'Pol answered with an arched brow. Jonathan wasn't sure it was meant to be funny but he smiled anyways. "I meant it in a general sense, T'Pol. Not you exclusively." The Vulcan made no reply but continue to follow the scent. They round the corner cautiously then broke into a run as they spotted the source. "Malcolm," Commander Tucker was the first to get to the down man. "Damn it." "Slowly," Archer said as they turned the back onto his side, to see the wound that caused the small puddle of blood on the metal flooring. "Looks like a blow to the neck with something sharp. Concussion?" "I do not believe so," T'Pol made a quick scan. Her tricorder any not be a medical one, but it was efficient enough for her to make a partial measurement. "He will live." "I kind of guessed that," Tucker said irritated. "Where's Hoshi?" "Fan out toward the next corridor," Archer instructed the two men as T'Pol continued to scan Mr. Reed. "Find Hoshi." Tucker and Mayweather got up and jogged down the hallway, rounding it in sharp movement, one going high while the other went low. "Nothing sir." Mayweahter reported. "Hold it," Tucker said quietly, holding a restraining on Mayweather's arm as the younger man moved to go back to the fallen comrade. "There's an open door down here." Travis turned back and peeked around the corner again, looking toward where Commander Tucker was pointing. "You're right. Captain," he called over his shoulder. "Hold on a second," Archer instructed as he helped a moaning Reed into a sitting position. While the man's face was pale was parchment paper, his neck and shoulders were generously soaked in his own blood, creating a ring of crimson around him. "How are you feeling, Mr. Reed?" "Like someone dropped a bloody anchor on me head." He shook his head to clear his blurry vision, but only succeeded to make himself dizzy. "Oh hell." "Take it easy." Archer said as the Vulcan science officer pressed a small clothe to the back of the man's neck. Where she got the make-shift bandage he had no idea. "You have a nasty bump there." He glanced up as Tucker and Mayweather knelt down next to them. "Well?" "An open...." "Hoshi!" Reed started to stand but groaned as his vision shifted and turned on him. Putting one hand against the wall, he managed to get himself into an upright position. "Bloody hell." He moved slowly but determinedly down the corridor. "I left her with that blasted alien she was talking to." "Alone?" Archer asked as he looped one arm around the wounded man. "Here, lean on me." "I can do this, Captain. And yeah, pretty stupid huh?" He hissed through his teeth, as every step seemed to jar his brain painfully. "It's over there." "The open door?" Tucker asked, his face almost as pale as the bleeding Mr. Reed's. "Yeah," he nodded his head slightly, hoping that it didn't start spinning as before. He could almost feel his own strength slowly seeping from his lead dipped limbs. "That's the one." Tucker and Mayweather rushed to the door without thought, taking only a moment to pause at the door to position themselves defensively. They both popped around the edge at the exact same moment. Phasers raised and posed, they took a moment to survey the room before turning back the struggling armory officer trying not to put too much weight on his tall captain's shoulders. "Well?" Reed asked, breath hard. "You guys better come take a look at this." Mayweather said as Tucker moved into the room, weapon down. To be continued..... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Okay, this story is turning out to be longer than expected. But I'm having fun, so I sincerely hope that those of you reading it are having a good time too. Note: My Beta Reader is really ill at the moment but won't let me stop the writing to wait for her. If anyone would like to be my temporary Beta Reader, cause there have been complaints about my grammar and I'm really sorry about that, please e-mail me. I could really use someone right now. Thanks. On to Chapter 2 |