The BLTS Archive - Captivating by Elf (maddooks@yahoo.com) --- Archive: Permission to archive granted to EntSTCommunity. Others please ask. Beta: SueC Spoilers: nope Disclaimer: Only the mistakes are mine. Author's notes: This was written for a challenge. We had to include: A movie or movie quote A piece of fruit (no pineapple) A household appliance An animal (not Porthos) A cultural misunderstanding --- "I swear, Cap'n, it wasn't my fault this time!" Archer looked from Trip's expression of wide-eyed innocence down to the burned-out mess of wires under the deck. There was also some other substance – gooey, which was burning and sizzling and producing a horrific smell – which was slowly dripping down further inside the electrics. "What is it, then?" Archer asked, wrinkling his nose. "I don't know – I swear, I pulled the deck plate up, realised I needed my hyper-spanner from engineering and I was only gone a minute – two at most. When I came back. . . " he held out his hand, gesturing to the mess and the darkened corridor. "How long will it take to fix?" Archer asked. "We can't expect the crew to function properly when half of them don't have power in their quarters." "Depends what it is," Trip peered down into the hole, then drew his head back, the smell overwhelming. "And how hard it is to clean out." Archer nodded, then decided he could trust his Chief Engineer to deal with the problem – especially if it meant that he could head back to the bridge, away from the nauseating smell. "I won't keep you then," he said and strode away. Trip watched his retreating form, then looked back into the hole at his feet. He decided he definitely needed some help. --- The air in the armoury was sweet and fresh, with the slight undertones of oil and warm machinery. Trip took a deep breath, smiling. "Mal?" he called. "I need some help, with this re-wiring I was goin' t'do." Malcolm appeared from behind one of the blast shields. "I thought it was a simple matter of replacing the old cabling with the newer high-speed one?" Trip nodded, pulling a face. "It was. . . until. . . well, somethin' kinda weird happened." Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Come on then, lead the way." --- Trip watched, with a slightly disgusted look on his face as Malcolm lay on his front on the deck, his head down the hole, and poked the slime with his finger. The digit came away with some still stuck on it, so Malcolm sniffed it, pulling his head away sharply as he did so. "That's vile," he announced. Trip nodded in agreement. "Smells like some sort of. . . vomit. Has Porthos been around here?" he asked. Trip shook his head. "Doubt it – Jon was on the bridge, so Porthos should be in his office." "Well it'll take some cleaning – it's cooked onto these conduits." Malcolm poked around a bit more, pulling his finger back when he touched something hot. "What d'you reckon the best way to clean it out'll be?" Trip asked. "Well. . . " Malcolm paused in thought. "Hang on – I'll be right back." Trip watched as Malcolm walked away, wiping his soiled fingers on a dirty rag. Now the power was all isolated the smell was beginning to recede a little, so he braved a closer look at the damage. --- A few minutes later Malcolm returned, carrying a toolbox. He laid it on the deck and opened the catches, pulling out a small machine which had hoses leading from it. Malcolm attached a shiny tube to the end of one of the hoses and lay down on the deck again, flicking a switch on the nozzle. The machine whirred into life, and Trip realised it was a small but powerful vacuum. He watched as the sludge was sucked up, leaving only the cooked-on stuff behind. "Maybe we should get it to Phlox – he might be able to tell you what it is," Malcolm suggested. Trip nodded, peering into the vacuum cleaner at the goo, which was now safely stored in some sort of reservoir. "Looks like sick 'n all," he commented. --- Malcolm stood up and took the appliance, nodding. "Come on, if we can find out what it is, maybe we can find out how it got onto the circuits – and more importantly, what we can use to clean it off. I don't fancy going at the electrics with Chef's washing up liquid," he said dryly. --- Phlox scooped out a portion of the goo and smeared it over a glass slide, then put it inside his medical scanner. He watched the readouts, and both Malcolm and Trip saw the change in his expression from interest to something which looked rather guilty. "Ah," he said. "I believe I can indeed help you with this matter." "Go on," Trip said. "Well, you see, on that last planet we traded with there were some very interesting species – one of which was something akin to an Earth ferret. It's called a Tikkimish, and it has amazingly powerful stomach acid. When fed with a certain type of fruit its droppings are a very potent medicine – useful for removing dead flesh after injury or infection." The smile Phlox gave them convinced Malcolm that Phlox was trying to distract them. "So what does this have to do with there being slime all over the power supplies to most of E deck?" he asked. "Well. . . " Phlox turned back to his computer. "I purchased two pairs of Tikkimish, for use on Enterprise." "And," Tucker prompted. "And it seems that, interestingly, they have something of a gelatinous bone structure, not at all like our own." "So?" This time it was Malcolm's turn. "This morning they escaped," Phlox started. "And then managed to eat a rather large amount of Barudi fruit. Then I believe one has. . . umm. . . relieved itself onto your wires, I'm afraid." Trip stared. "You've let some ferret shit on my power cables?" "Indeed. I fear you will need to clean it up before the acid really gets to work," Phlox answered. "I'll give you a small Luper Leech – he should do the job adequately. They thrive on acidic secretions." Trip rolled his eyes and watched as Malcolm took the small clear tank that Phlox reached down from a shelf. "Just place him on the area which has been. . . soiled. . . and let him do his work. He'll thank you for a tasty meal!" Malcolm nodded, peering in at the slimy grey leech, which was suckered onto the side of the tank, then followed Trip toward the doors. "Oh, and gentlemen – if you find my Tikkimish, I would be most grateful if you could return them!" Trip bit back his reply. --- Malcolm fished the leech out of the box and dropped it onto the cables, watching as it began squirming across the wires, leaving clean trails behind it. Trip pulled a face, but acknowledged that it was better than trying to clean up the stuff himself. --- By the time Trip and Malcolm had finished replacing the cables it was almost the end of shift. There had been no further signs of the Tikkimish, which worried both of them – although Phlox assured them that he had hidden away the food supply, and was optimistic that they would return when they became hungry. But, Malcolm had pointed out, Phlox was optimistic about everything, so it was hard to gauge whether the animal really would behave in that manner or if the doctor was just trying to placate them. They were heading back to engineering, toolboxes in their hands, when the comm. sounded. "Archer to Tucker." Trip put his tools down and headed for the wall panel. "Tucker." "Trip – um. . . we have some. . . um. . . aliens, calling. They say they've scanned our ship and have found we're keeping some sort of. . . menagerie, in one of our cabins. Your cabin, to be precise." Trip's mouth dropped open. "What?" "Is there something you wish to tell me, Trip?" Archer continued. "No! I mean, there isn't anything to tell, Cap'n. I haven't got any animals in my cabin. You sure they haven't scanned Porthos or something?" "Four life-signs, Trip. They've sent us copies of their scans. It's definitely your cabin. I'll meet you there in five minutes, and you'd better have a good explanation for this. Apparently, these Tikka-Masala whatever-they're called are very sacred creatures, and keeping one is a terrible offence to the Krillan Gods." Trip turned to Malcolm, who was shaking his head. "I'll be there, Cap'n." he answered, then cut the comm. link. "Phlox's ferrets. I'll kill him." Malcolm smiled. "Not if the Captain kills you first." --- The smell when the door of Trip's cabin was opened was overwhelming, and Trip threw up his arm to cover his mouth and nose. Malcolm grimaced, peering into the small room. On the bed, curled around each other, were four furry little bodies, obviously happily asleep. The room, however, was covered in stinking patches of faeces, much of which had eaten through furnishings and Trip's desk, and, to Malcolm's amusement, some of Trip's famous collection of shirts, which had obviously been sorted and left on the floor for the laundry. "Oh my God," Trip said, his voice muffled by his arm. "Wait until I see the Doc; he'll pay for this!" "I wonder why they came in here?" Malcolm looked around. "I mean, there are hundreds of rooms on the ship, but all four of them end up in here?" Trip looked around, then spotted what had once been a bowl of fruit on his desk. "Think they got hungry." He approached the bowl warily and saw that it was now empty, save for some stalks from apples and a small amount of what looked like regurgitated orange peel. Archer appeared in the doorway, pulling a face at the stench and immediately spotting the creatures. "No pets?" He raised an eyebrow at Trip. "They ain't mine! It's Phlox you want to speak to!" Trip protested. Malcolm moved to the comm. "Reed to Phlox – could you come to Commander Tucker's quarters – and bring a secure box with you. We've found your missing animals." "Ah, thank you, Mr Reed. I shall be right with you," Phlox answered, sounding very happy. "So. . . what will the repercussions be, Captain?" Reed asked. "If they're such sacred creatures?" --- Archer stood, slightly stooped, at the front of the cage, his hands resting on the bars. Trip was slumped at the back, his arms resting on his knees and Malcolm was beside him, sitting cross-legged and straight-backed, with matching glum expressions on their faces. Phlox was the only one who seemed happy, standing and observing the creature in the next cage over from them. Trip scratched his head and stretched, yawning. "Is it feedin' time yet?" he asked. No one bothered to answer. Malcolm followed the progress of yet another group of what he supposed where school-children on this planet as they walked past, stopping in front of their cage and all staring in through the bars. He was sure he heard Archer growl at them. "How much longer?" Trip asked, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. "The law states we must be caged for as long as the Tikkimish were caged on Enterprise," Malcolm stated flatly. "So we've got another day and a half yet." Trip snorted. "Technically, it should only be another day – they escaped after that." Archer turned to him. "Somehow, I don't think they'll accept that as an excuse for early parole," he said sarcastically. Trip glanced over to Phlox, who was now making cooing noises at the large furry-looking creature next door. "How come you're the one who got us into this mess," he asked. "An' you're the only one who doesn't seem bothered by bein' stuck in here?" "It's fascinating, Mr Tucker!" Phlox beamed. "To have this opportunity to study so many species – and in their natural habitat! I believe that although this is meant to be a form of punishment, it is merely yet another opportunity. As you humans say, always look on the bright side of life!" Trip snorted and threw a pebble at the large sign fixed to their cage. Hoshi had informed them, whilst trying to stifle her giggles, that it read 'Do not feed the animals'. Malcolm began whistling the tune from Monty Python. Archer felt his body sag and he scratched another mark in the dust with his toe. Only thirty-five more hours to go. --- The End