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Trip and Malcolm made their way cautiously down the darkened crew quarters of Enterprise, Malcolm in the lead. They were both carrying flashlights, swinging beams of light back and forth along the corridor, making sure to point them at the ground. They both walked quietly, their bodies tense, alert for the slightest sound.
"D'y—" Trip began.
"Shht!" Malcolm hissed. Without turning, he had instantly raised a hand to stop the commander from speaking.
"Oh c'mon, Malc," Trip said, "we're not huntin' fer Suliban here—y'can leave off with the 'special ops' stuff, okay?"
Malcolm swung around, crossing his arms and glaring. His flashlight beam shone up the wall to the curve of the ceiling. "And how do you expect me to find him, Commander, if you won't keep quiet for two bleeding seconds?"
"I told ya how, Malc," Trip glared back, "If ya'd just let me go to the galley and get some cheese—"
"Oh, yes, that's right," Malcolm answered sarcastically, "I'd forgotten your brilliant plan—letting the captain come back to an invisible dog with explosive diarrhea as opposed to merely a dog he can't see."
"Porthos ain't invisible," Trip insisted, "he's just blendin' in with the shadows. His fur's gone darker, is all."
"Thank you so much for the distinction, Commander," Malcolm snarked back. He gestured at the darkness in the corridor around them. "He might as well be invisible, for all the luck we've had finding him." He turned around before Trip could answer, shaking his head disgustedly. He began marching at a faster pace down the corridor, swinging the light beam left and right. "You just had to let him off the lead, didn't you?"
"Hey!" Trip said to Malcolm's back, walking faster to keep up with him, "he'd been stuck in Sickbay for near 48 hours! What was I supposed to do?"
"Keep him on the lead," Malcolm snarled. "Now shut up—I'm trying to listen."
"The poor guy was dyin' t'go for a run, Malc!" Trip continued, "How was I spozed ta know he could change his color?"
"Quiet!" Malcolm said, holding up his hand again. Both men stopped dead. Malcolm slowly moved his flashlight beam. He was almost whispering, "I thought I heard something."
"I hear it too," Trip said just as quietly. It sounded like...water?
Malcolm's flashlight beam traveled along the wall to his right, highlighting a dark shadow—a beagle-shaped shadow—and a gentle curve of water that was quickly forming a small puddle on the floor.
"PORTHOS!" Trip yelled. He lunged at the animal, crashing to his knees, but the little dog dodged left and took off. The shadow shape disappeared into the heavier shadows along the corridor. "Damn!" Trip swore, "I think I just got dog-piss on m'knee."
Malcolm was far ahead of him, boots ringing as he pounded after the dog. Trip heard him yelling 'Porthos! PORTHOS!' but only Malcolm's silhouette was visible against the beam from his flashlight. Then Trip heard something like: 'Stop, you miserable fleabag!' and saw the flashlight go crashing in one direction, the silhouette another. There was a very loud noise.
Trip ran the rest of the distance to the lieutenant. He found Malcolm lying on his back, arms akimbo. The flashlight was rolling in an arc pattern by the left wall; Porthos was nowhere in sight. Trip bent to look at Malcolm, who was groaning with his eyes closed.
"You okay?"
"I think I broke my nose."
Trip had to clench his jaw hard to keep from laughing. "That's it," he said, using his flashlight to find the nearest wall panel, "I'm turnin' on the lights."
"No!" Malcolm said. He had rolled into a sitting position, both hands gingerly steepled on either side of his nose. "Don't touch it!—Do you really want the Beta shift to know what we're doing down here?"
Trip hesitated, fingers just touching the panel keys. He turned back to Malcolm, barely able to make out his pained expression in the near-darkness. "We'll have a lot better luck findin' him," he said.
"It's not worth it," Malcolm said. He shook his head, hands and all. "Travis is up there—we'll never live it down."
Trip thought about that, then dropped his hand. "Damn." He saw that Malcolm had finally let his nose go and was struggling to his feet. "Y'don't have to help, y'know," he said quietly, "I mean—you're right. This is my fault. Ya shouldn't be stuck tryin' ta help me find Porthos."
He could just make out Malcolm's pained smile. "Hang for a lamb, hang for a sheep," he said, "no point in backing out now."
"Thanks," Trip said, meaning it. He sighed. "Okay, so what do we do?"
Now it was Malcolm who walked to the panel. "We call in the big guns," he said. He pressed the comm button with his thumb. "Malcolm Reed to Hoshi Sato."
There was a pause while Trip stared at Malcolm goggle-eyed. Then, "What is it, Lieutenant?" Came back over the comm. Hoshi sounded remarkably awake and alert, considering the hour. Trip blinked, automatically turning his head so his ear was closer to the panel. Was that giggling in the background?
"We have a delicate situation here," Malcolm said smoothly, "-and we require your particular expertise." He moved his thumb and waited for Hoshi's answer.
"Now?" Hoshi didn't usually sound so petulant. And that was definitely giggling. And something that sounded suspiciously like a moan...
Trip pushed Malcolm aside, taking his place at the comm. panel. "Yes 'now,'" he said, none too gently. "So tuck it in, zip up, and get down here, Ensign! That's an order." He thumbed the switch off smartly.
"'Tuck it in?'" Malcolm asked blandly, eyebrows raised. He shook his head and went back to the comm. "We're on E deck, by the way," he spoke into it, "we would truly appreciate your help."
"Fine," Hoshi said. She sounded like it was anything but. "Thank you Lieutenant," she said sweetly, "for that gentlemanly request. You can tell that shizekopf that I'll be right down." The comm cut off.
Trip turned to Malcolm. "What did she say?"
Malcolm was busy checking the flashlight. He sniffed a few times, rubbed his nose. "It was in German."
"I know that!" Trip said. "You told me you speak some."
"Ah," said Malcolm. He started down the corridor again, still rubbing his nose. "Not anymore."
"Yeah, well," Trip groused, "'sticks an' stones may break my bones, but words'll never hurt me.'"
Malcolm glanced back at him, his face half in shadow. "Especially when you don't know what the words mean."
"Shut up."
They met Hoshi at the turbo lift, which was one area that was well-lit even at this hour. The Ensign was wearing pink pyjamas, a robe and fluffy bunny slippers. Her hair was unbound, lying messily around her shoulders. She gave Trip a look that could have curdled milk, then turned and smiled at Malcolm.
"You said you needed my expertise, Lieutenant?" She stifled a yawn, then smiled brightly at him before she glared at Trip again.
"Rather," Malcolm said. He sniffed, checked just under his nose for blood. Not finding any, he continued, "We've lost Porthos."
Hoshi looked at him incredulously. "Why do you need my help? The ship's not that big—did he get into a turbo lift or something?"
"No, no," Malcolm explained quickly, "It's actually, that, erm..." He paused, obviously unsure of how to continue.
"The dog's invisible," Trip put in. "That cure the doc gave 'im—it kinda' made him into a chameleon-beagle."
"A beagle-chameleon," Malcolm suggested.
Hoshi just looked at them both. "You're insane."
"I wish," Malcolm sighed. He gingerly touched his nose then winced. "Unfortunately, we're both in possession of our faculties. Just not in possession of the captain's dog."
Hoshi squinted up at him. "What's wrong with your nose?"
"It's fine," Malcolm said quickly.
"He banged it tryin' to catch Porthos," Trip explained.
Hoshi looked quizzically from the red and swollen bridge of Malcolm's nose to Trip's face. "Why didn't you just turn on the lights?"
"That's not the point, Hoshi," Malcolm said. His voice was still gentle, but Trip could tell his patience had just about totally eroded. "The point is the dog is invisible and we can't see him. We need your help—specifically, your exceptional hearing."
"Let me get this straight, guys," Hoshi said. She put her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. "Okay: Porthos is lost. And you can't find him because you can't see him in the dark."
Trip and Malcolm looked at each other. Close enough. "Bingo," Trip said.
"-So we need you to listen for him." Malcolm added.
Hoshi blinked at the two of them. "How long did it take you to earn your ranks?" She shook her head, waving a hand dismissively before either man could respond. "Never mind." She flattened her lips as she thought. "Wait here."
Malcolm and Trip turned, watching wordlessly as Hoshi padded back the way they had come in their hunt for Porthos. Her bunny slippers made the barest slapping nose against the deck. She glanced at the doors to the crew quarters as she passed, then stopped at one and hit the chime.
Malcolm glanced at Trip, then at the ensign. "Uh, Hoshi...?"
Hoshi ignored him. A moment later the door slid open. A very sleepy Stephanie Cormack was standing there, curly hair all frizzed. She was wearing bright-pink pajamas that were almost glowing in the light coming from her room.
"Hiya, Hoshi," she said, rubbing an eye with a sleeve, "sumpin wrong?" She yawned widely. "Liz a'right?"
"She's great," Hoshi smiled. "I'm really sorry to wake you—but I just need something from your room."
"Sure," Stephanie said. She stepped aside to let Hoshi in. The door slid shut again before Trip or Malcolm could hear any more of their conversation.
"Cormack got dog-catching equipment?" Trip asked Malcolm.
"Nothing official," Malcolm shrugged. "Do you suppose...Liz?"
Trip raised his eyebrows, waggling them suggestively. "Maybe Hoshi's just lookin' fer something fer later?"
Malcolm was about to answer when Hoshi slipped out of Cormack's quarters, looking over her shoulder as she gave her thanks. Then, ignoring the two men, she went to the nearest wall panel.
"No!" Malcolm cried, starting forward, "don't—"
Hoshi hit a switch and the lights went on, flooding the corridor in brilliance. Trip and Malcolm grimaced, slapping their palms over their eyes.
"Hoshi...!" Malcolm groaned.
"Ow," Trip was groaning too. "Ow. Dammit. I'm blind."
"Porthos! Come here, Porthos! That's a good boy!"
Malcolm let his eyes open to slits peeking through his fingers. Hoshi was kneeling in the corridor, practically cooing as she called the dog. She was proffering something in her hand.
"Here, boy!" Hoshi called again, "here, Porthos! Treat!"
"Treat?" Trip asked. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Where'd she get—"
Malcolm's eyes widened. "Oh no."
They heard the sound of little paws scruffing over metal deck, and suddenly Porthos was right there, coming from the opposite end of the corridor. He was completely visible again; looking as normal and cute as a dog ever could, as he trotted to Hoshi with his tail wagging. His whole body wiggled with delight as he gobbled up the cheese she was holding out to him.
"That's a good boy!" Hoshi gushed. She scooped up the little dog, then walked purposely towards the two other officers. She thrust Porthos into Malcom's arms almost without stopping, then stalked towards the turbo lift. "You're going to owe me one, guys," She didn't even bother to look behind her as she spoke.
Trip and Malcolm watched her get into the turbo lift. "Well," Trip coughed a little, "that was easy."
"Indeed," Malcolm said. He turned and lifted Porthos into Trip's arms. "You might want to take him to Sickbay, Commander," Malcolm smiled thinly, "that looked like a lot of cheese."
Trip's eyes widened, and he swallowed. "Oh jeeze..." He glanced behind him, "what about the pee?"
Malcolm just kept smiling, patted him on the shoulder. "I have every faith in your resourcefulness. I, on the other hand, am going to bed. Sleep well, Commander." He paused to scratch Porthos between the ears. The dog burped, and seemed to be blending in with the blue of Trip's uniform. "You, ah, might want to keep him contained," Malcolm said brightly. He turned and headed for the turbo lift as well, leaving Trip standing with an increasingly blue-furred dog.
Porthos burped again. Then farted.
Trip just closed his eyes like he was in pain. The comm beeped behind him.
"Travis Mayweather to Commander Tucker,"
Trip took a deep breath, then turned back to the comm panel and punched one of the keys. "Trip here."
"Are you on E deck, sir?" Travis asked, "-all the lights suddenly went on down there. Is something happening?"
Trip leaned his head against the wall. Porthos barked happily, then burped again. "If I said 'no,' would you believe me?"
"Probably not." Travis sounded amused.
"Didn't think so," Trip shut the comm off and started walking towards the turbo lift. Porthos was bright blue now, with a red stripe running through his face where his head was touching the piping of Trip's uniform.
Porthos' blue tail was thumping with happiness. He'd had a great chase, marked his territory, eaten cheese and been held by the female with the nice voice. If only his Human were here, and his tummy wasn't rumbling quite so much, this would be the best day of his life.