Animal Fair

Jonathan Archer opened his eyes slowly, head throbbing and feeling disorientated. The last thing he remembered was the ship shuddering as it dropped out of warp, caught by something. Then a dazzling light filled the bridge, blinding everyone, and finally blackness.

He was on the floor, in front of the captain's chair and he tried to pick himself up. He concentrated on placing his hands beneath him and pushed himself into a sitting position. He heard a snort in front of him and he looked toward the unusual sound.

There was a horse standing behind the helm, looking at him. An Arabian stallion to be exact. A prime specimen, hard muscled and sleek, its coat glossy and as dark as the space surrounding Enterprise.

"Are you all right, sir?" the horse asked.

In Travis' voice.

Jon immediately checked his head for blood, lumps, or tenderness. He found none, his eyes wide and disbelieving, mouth open in shock.

"Sir?" the horse asked again, and the concern in its voice was noticeable.

"Travis?" Jon managed.

"Yes, sir." The horse looked at itself. "Well, it's me inside this…this…body." Travis replied, his voice a little shaky.

"What the…" Jon trailed off as a gazelle, with a long graceful neck and large dark eyes raised its delicate head from the deck. "Oh, God. My head —" the gazelle moaned, its magnificent sharp spiraling antlers scraping along the consol as it moved its head to look at Jon. Its ears flicked and its eyes got even wider at the sound.

"Hoshi?" Jon asked, incredulous. He brushed his hand across his eyes as if to clear his vision.

"Jon? My God, what happened? What's happened to me?" Hoshi asked, a note of panic in her voice as she struggled to her feet. She wobbled a bit and Travis walked over to her, allowing her to lean against one powerful flank.

"Take it easy, Hoshi. It'll take a couple of minutes to get used to it," Travis murmured comfortingly.

Jon didn't think Hoshi's eyes could get any bigger, but they did.

"Travis?" she asked, stunned.

"Yeah. Just breathe, Hoshi. It'll be okay."

A soft flapping sound caught the three's attention. An owl, white and dark brown feathers dappled in an eye catching mixture, hopped into view from behind T'Pol's station.

"I assume that everyone remembers the events which transpired before this…metamorphosis…occurred?" T'Pol's precise and unflappable tone issued from the owl's beak.

"Falling out of warp, that light?" Jon replied as the owl nodded, her enormous brown eyes stabbing into Jon's own.

"I had just begun to scan for data when I was rendered unconscious," T'Pol continued. She flapped her wings and alighted upon her consol and using her talons, punched in a few commands.

"God, I feel like the third day of a two day shore leave…" All but T'Pol looked over to where Trip's slow drawl came from, next to the tactical station where Trip had last been seen, standing behind Malcolm as usual.

A golden retriever was lying on the deck, its bright blue eyes startling in that grinning face as it raised its head. It open its mouth to speak again when it was interrupted by a muffled voice.

"Get the hell off me!" The dog started and lifted a hind leg.

A small black cat, blue-grey eyes blazing, crawled out from underneath the long blond fur of the retriever.

"Damn near flattened me with your great, fuzzy arse. Jesus Christ, Trip, next time fall on someone else." The cat stalked out, tail twitching, ears flattened, growling to itself. It leapt up onto the tactical consol, using its paws to ascertain the ship's status.

"No causalities reported, sir. No damage to the ship, engines on line, weapons intact," Malcolm purred the last item with satisfaction as he batted a few more commands in.

"You're a cat —" Trip said and Malcolm rolled his eyes.

"And the Sub-Commander is an owl, Travis is a horse, and Hoshi's a gazelle. A Grant's gazelle by the looks of it. The captain seems to be unchanged. And you're a dog, Trip. A very heavy and very furry dog. Who's shedding. I almost bloody well suffocated under all that hair," Malcolm complained, sitting back on his haunches. He licked his paw and scrubbed his ear. Hoshi stifled a laugh, still listening to the department heads report in slowly, but Malcolm's ears swivelled toward her. He stopped in mid-wash, realizing what he was doing. His tail jerked back and forth several times as he lowered his head and studied his consol again.

"Sensor readings show that there is a warp signature from an alien vessel, less than an hour old," T'Pol reported. "There are no other anomalies apparent in this region. We were unconscious for approximately twenty minutes."

"Department heads report nothing unusual, sir. Just that everyone was knocked out," Hoshi added as the last account came in.

"Get Phlox up here, Ensign," Jon ordered and Hoshi lifted one slender leg to comply, her hoof clumsy, but managing to obey nonetheless.

Jon looked around again at the menagerie that was his bridge crew. Trip was checking his station, stretched up and standing on his hind legs, tongue lolling. T'Pol continued to go through the sensor logs, sharp claws clicking on the smooth panels. Travis stood next to his station, eyes on his consol. Malcolm was prowling along the bank of tactical and engineering consols, short dark hair standing slightly on end, tail thrashing back and forth.

Although he was proud of his command crew's professionalism and attention to duty, Jon felt as if he had fallen down the rabbit hole.

He then realized that he may have had something to do with their transformations.

***

"Physiologically, they are indeed the animals that they appear to be, down to the DNA, enzymes, internal organs and bone structure," Phlox reported, scanning T'Pol one last time. "The only aberrations seem to be in the vocal chords, allowing them to speak, and their brain activity."

"Lucky you didn't get the bird brain to go with the body, huh, T'Pol," Trip teased half heartedly from behind her, his tail barely wagging.

T'Pol didn't move but her head rotated completely around and she glared at him. Trip shuddered slightly and his tail drooped.

Phlox chuckled. "Very lucky, Commander. It appears that none of you have lost any of your intellectual capacity. It's an amazing phenomena. Actually, when I compare readings on you, Commander, to Porthos there is very little difference, except for the activity in several nodes and synapses. If you'll note here…" The doctor went on, leaving all but T'Pol behind in his explanation. And T'Pol was hard pressed to keep up.

Jon interrupted. "Doctor, this is all fascinating, but I'd like to know if there's anything you can do to change them back." Jon was grasping at straws, but he had to ask.

Phlox shook his head. "This whole transfiguration should be impossible, Captain. There is nothing medically that I can do for any of them. I recommend that you continue the course of action you have taken."

Jon had ordered Travis to lay in a course to follow the unknown ship's warp trail, the only lead that they had. Jon saw Travis' frustration when he tried to comply, using his nose to attempt to tap in the commands. Jon had done it for him and then ordered a relief shift to man his command crew's posts.

They were now crowded around the consol in the situation room, Travis trying to keep from treading on anyone and Hoshi standing close to him. T'Pol was perched on one end of the consol with Phlox still scanning her, while Malcolm sat on the opposite end in an attempt to keep out from under foot. Trip walked over and sat down in front of Jon, his butt unknowingly resting on Jon's feet.

Jon didn't have the heart to move him. His bridge crew, once the initial flurry of activity had worn off, had gotten quiet as their situation and options slowly sank in. Hoshi's ears flickered nervously, her large eyes still wide. A shiver traveled through Travis' flanks occasionally, his flowing tail stuttering to and fro. Jon could see that T'Pol's feathers were ruffled although she would smooth them sporadically with her beak. Even Trip's enthusiasm had seemed to be dampen once he had checked the status of engineering.

Jon looked at his lover. Malcolm was sitting silently, long tail wrapped around his feet, the tip quivering. His hair was still slightly on end and his ears twitched in response to every sound made on the bridge.

"All right, Doctor. Thank you."

Phlox nodded. "If the headaches persist, feel free to come to sickbay for another pain reliever. I would suggest that you all eat something, your blood sugar readings are a bit low. You'll all feel better after some rest as well. No cheese for you, Commander, or chocolate. Sub-Commander, I believe you will need a protein supplement. Come see me later at your convenience. Ensigns, I would suggest that you stay with vegetarian fare for now until we see how your systems react," and with one last optimistic smile, the doctor left the bridge. Everyone looked at Jon.

"I guess you're all relieved of duty until we find that ship."

"That could take days," Trip growled.

"I can't fit in my bunk," Travis said softly. "I don't think I can even fit in my quarters."

"You and Hoshi could bed down in the cargo bay," Malcolm suggested quietly.

Jon nodded. "Yeah. Trip, let's get a couple of your people to set up something for Travis and Hoshi…"

"We'll have to modify the key pads to enter rooms as well—I don't know about y'all, but I don't think my nose can take punchin' codes in all the time and my paws aren't exactly made for manipulatin' things."

"At least you have paws," T'Pol said flapping her wings a little. She sounded a bit peevish.

"Try hoofs," Hoshi said mournfully.

Jon absently petted Trip's head. "Good idea, Trip. Why don't you guys go get something to eat. I'll notify chef to make arrangements…" Jon petered out awkwardly. Travis and Hoshi would need something other that the usual plates. He wondered if they even had something large enough to hold water for them…

"Hey, we can tie on the old feed bag," Travis joked, nuzzling Hoshi, trying to make her feel better.

"Well, I'm hungry enough to eat a horse," Trip added, grinning and Hoshi laughed as Travis snorted.

"Yes. There is nothing more we can do at the moment. I'll tie in the sensors to the computer in my quarters. I can monitor the situation from there," T'Pol stated as she made her ungainly way across the consol. She fluttered up onto Travis' back.

"Hey!" Travis protested, wincing as her sharp talons dug into him as she worked her way up to his mane and finally roosting there.

"Hay is for horses," Hoshi giggled and Trip barked a short laugh.

"My apologies, Ensign. However, I am not certain that I can manage the journey to the turbolift. I have not yet had a chance to test my mastery of flight," T'Pol explained and Jon thought he heard a note of despondency in her soft hooting tone.

Hoshi looked at T'Pol, her large brown doe eyes sympathetic. "You should come down to the cargo bay with us, Sub-Commander, after dinner. There should be enough room there to stretch your wings and practice. Travis and I will watch to make sure that you don't hurt yourself."

The three moved to the turbolift together, Travis walking carefully so as not to dislodge T'Pol. They squeezed inside, barely fitting, and Hoshi nosed the messhall level.

Trip rose and stretched, then shook himself. He walked over to the lift, stood on his hind legs and hit the call button. "I better talk to my team about making modifications. See you two in about half an hour in the Captain's Mess?" he threw an inquiring look at Jon.

"Yeah. I'll have chef make you a steak," Jon replied and he couldn't help smiling when Trip nodded, those disconcerting blue eyes twinkling in that cheerful retriever face.

"Have him make it rare. And a big one. I'm really hungry." Trip winked at him and disappeared into the lift.

Jon looked at Malcolm. His lover had his head down, studying the readings on the consol, and his small paw pushed in another command.

"Malcolm," Jon said softly as he moved to him.

"Long range sensors don't report any planets or systems within four lightyears. Luckily there's not too much interference about; we can still follow this warp trail, but it'll be dodgy if we run into any debris or background radiation that might muddy it—"

Jon hesitated, then placed his hand on Malcolm's head. Malcolm looked up and Jon was struck by how expressive his lover's eyes were, even in his transformed shape.

Malcolm looked as desolate as Jon had ever seen him. Without thinking, Jon rubbed the side of his face and Malcolm leaned into the touch.

"We'll find them, Malcolm. Everything will be okay," Jon said soothingly and Malcolm closed his eyes, pressing into Jon's hand. Jon caressed him for several long minutes and Malcolm finally spoke, his voice low.

"I can't do my job like this, Jon. I can't protect you or the crew. I barely weight five kilos, and I can't even reach the keypads for the doors. I can't hold a phase pistol. And what happens if they attack next time? Trip nearly bloody well crushed me. One good boot to the ribs and I'm done for…what can I do like this? Purr them to sleep? Or maybe I can knead them to death." Malcolm buried his head in Jon's hand.

Jon fought against his animal loving instinct to pick him up and cuddle him; he didn't think his lover would appreciate that, especially while still on the bridge. He played his other hand down Malcolm's back and Malcolm arched into it involuntarily. Jon felt the small but well muscled shape under the sleek fur and he smiled a bit.

"You still have your intellect, Malcolm. You might not be able to manually arm a torpedo, but you can still use your tactical skills. There's always the element of surprise. Not many people expect a sentient cat. And I bet no one will be able to sneak up on you, but you can sneak up on someone real well…" He was gratified to hear a raspy chuckle from his beloved.

Malcolm raised his head and it looked to Jon as if he were smiling, his mouth slightly open and his small pointed teeth glistening, the dejected look in his eyes replaced with a sparkle of humor.

"Come on. Let's feed you and take the rest of the night off. Anything you want in particular for dinner?"

Jon didn't know that cats could smirk.

"You know, I do have a rather odd craving for shrimp and glass of milk…"

***

Dinner had been…interesting.

But the walk to Jon's quarters had been even more interesting.

Jon and Malcolm had left the bridge together, Jon wanting to stop at his room to clean up before eating. Jon talked of trivialities; the latest water polo match between Stanford and Cal, news from Starfleet, small unimportant things, just trying to maintain some normalcy in a very abnormal situation. Malcolm would replied occasionally, his feet gliding noiselessly along the deck as he trotted alongside Jon, keeping close to the walls and in the shadows.

Nearing Jon's quarters they had run into Lieutenant Hess, just now going on duty. She nodded a greeting to Jon and her face softened into a look at delight as she noticed the slight black cat at the Captain's feet. Before Jon could say anything, she swooped down and picked Malcolm up, chucking her fingers under his chin as she cooed sweet nothings to him in a high pitched baby talk tone.

"Put me down, Lieutenant," Malcolm said, his voice even, the words slow and distinct.

Hess gave a little shriek and dropped him in shock.

Malcolm landed on his feet, a low rumble of annoyance issuing from his throat, tailing thrashing irritably. She looked from the Captain to the cat, her mouth working, an incoherent question stammering from her lips.

Jon gently placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her and briefly explained what had occurred before her shift. As she gave Malcolm an embarrassed apology, Jon called Hoshi's replacement on the bridge, asking the crewman to notify all shifts of the alpha bridge crews' transformation before any other misunderstandings could happen.

They arrived at Jon's quarters without further incident.

Until they entered.

Porthos stood just inside the room in front of the door, his customary position to greet Jon. Porthos took one look at Malcolm and lunged with a bark, tail wagging merrily.

Jon hadn't realized that cats could jump straight up that high.

Malcolm landed on Jon's shoulder, hissing, claws out and scrabbling for purchase. Jon sworn as Malcolm's nails dug in, through his uniform and into his skin. Porthos leapt up onto Jon, snapping at Malcolm's tail. Malcolm scrambled up higher, his claws now gouging into Jon's scalp as he tried to perch on Jon's head, his tail in Jon's face. Without thinking Jon grabbed Malcolm, trying to pry him off his head and that's when Porthos lunged again.

They went over in a heap, Porthos barking happily, Malcolm caterwauling, and Jon swearing. Malcolm twisted from Jon's now weak grasp and ran, Porthos giving chase and baying with apparent glee. Across the floor, under the bed, around the desk, and over the chair until Malcolm, PADDs and other items scattering in his wake, launched himself up to the top shelf. Porthos sprang and vaulted, trying to get to his quarry.

"Sit, Porthos! Bad dog!" Malcolm bellowed, and Porthos yelped once and sat, head cocked, looking confused. "Stay!" Malcolm commanded, his voice steady although his fur was standing completely on end now, his body trembling from the pursuit. "No biscuit for you!" Malcolm said firmly and Porthos sank to the floor, whining.

Jon sat up and winced, his shoulder painful. His scalp felt like a pin cushion and he rubbed it. His fingers came away faintly bloody from the small puncture wounds.

It took less than five minutes for Porthos to accept Malcolm. Although Malcolm wasn't happy with the enthusiastic full body licking he received from Porthos.

They were late for dinner as Malcolm insisted on bathing in the sink to wash the dog drool off him.

***

They made it to the messhall with no other humiliating episodes. Just a brief detour to sickbay to get Jon patched up.

Hoshi, Travis, and T'Pol were just finishing their meal. Chef had provided Hoshi and Travis with four of the biggest bowls Jon had ever seen—two filled with water, and the other two filled with the remnants of what looked like a crate of lettuce, with the addition of oats in Travis' bowl. The ensigns were standing in a corner, heads bowed as they ate off the floor. T'Pol was perched on the table, pecking away at what looked like cubes of bread and small bits of fruit.

The messhall had only a few crewmembers in it, and they were all staring. But the three formerly humanoid shaped shipmates ignored the looks, talking quietly among themselves through the chomping, snorting, and pecking. Hoshi laughed at something T'Pol said, and Travis' head came up. He chewed slowly as he nodded a pleasant greeting to Jon and went back to his grazing.

Jon slid a hand down his face and continued to his dining room.

Trip was there already, muzzle deep in a bowl, loudly munching away.

"I see your table manners haven't changed," Jon teased.

Trip looked up and wagged his tail. "You watch your mouth, Cap'n. Remember, every dog has his day."

Jon and Malcolm chuckled as Trip sat back on his haunches. Malcolm jump lightly up to the table. "I'm starving."

Jon absently rubbed Malcolm between the ears before sitting down next to him. The steward entered and placed their dinners before them, darting a furtive look at Malcolm. Malcolm insolently stared back at the man and the steward hastily retreated.

Jon never noticed how noisy animals were when they ate. Malcolm attacked his re-sequenced sashimi with a passion, a low purr emanating from him as he inhaled it. Trip was finishing up, loud smacking sounds coming from his vicinity.

Over dessert, a piece of cake for Jon, a small saucerful of cream for Malcolm, and three oatmeal cookies for Trip, Jon broached the subject that had been playing on his mind since shortly after awakening on the bridge.

"I think that whoever did this to everyone has been around for a few days; maybe monitoring us in some way. In some way that's…telepathic."

Both Trip and Malcolm looked at him, puzzled.

Jon sighed. "Two nights ago, I was watching an old comedy vid—you were in the armory Malcolm, and I was just passing the time." Jon paused, then plunged ahead. "The show had a running joke, asking celebrities what animal they would be —"

Trip looked even more perplexed and he moved to sit at Jon's side. "What's that got to do with this?"

Jon looked flustered. "Well, it got me thinking. First thing I thought was that T'Pol would be an owl…you know, that whole wise owl mythos. And then I thought that Travis, being so athletic, his position as helmsman, flying the ship, and well…a racehorse…"

"And Hoshi a gazelle, and me a dog?" Trip asked, disbelief mixed with amusement.

"Well, yeah. Retrievers are happy-go-lucky, look like they're smiling…I had one as a kid, and…it was just…that dog was my best friend—smart, loyal, brave, fun to be with…and you embody those qualities as well…" Jon's face started to color and he dropped his eyes. Trip placed his paw on his arm.

"It's okay, Jon. I know what you mean. Thank you." Trip's voice was warm and sincere and Jon looked up into those striking blue eyes. Trip nodded at him and removed him paw. He yawned suddenly, his canines sharp and white, his tongue out and wet, and he closed his jaw with a little snap. He laughed self consciously.

"Sorry. I'm really bushed. I think I'm gonna turn in now." He rose and then pushed his nose against Jon's arm. "You'd make a great dog too, Jon." He winked at his friend and let himself out of the room.

Jon smile faded as he looked at Malcolm.

Malcolm was glaring at him, his eyes narrow.

"You think of me as a house cat?"

"No. Well, I did briefly, but not at first," Jon defended himself.

"Really? And your first thought?" Malcolm bit his tongue to prevent himself from blurting a sarcastic remark, but he couldn't prevent his fretful tail from telegraphing his bruised feelings.

Jon couldn't help himself. He picked Malcolm up, placing him on his lap and felt Malcolm stiffened, body tense and angry. Jon petted him and he felt Malcolm relax a bit.

"You have a feline grace, Malcolm. A strong, sleek body. Cunning. A quiet dignity. Independent." Malcolm lowered his head, ashamed, and Jon continued to stroke him. "Before I got to know you, I thought you were aloof at times. Enigmatic. But you slowly crept into my heart…stealthy, like a big cat stalking it's prey…and you didn't even know it…"

Malcolm butted his head against Jon's chest, rubbing against him, purring softly now. "Jon…"

"And I thought that you would be a panther or a leopard, some sort of big cat. And then, the next night, when I came to bed, you were already asleep." Jon cupped Malcolm's face, his own blushing slightly, but he met his lover's eyes. "And you were curled up in our bed, hair all mussed, looking so innocent…and content. Happy to be there. And when I climbed in, you were just right to hold on to, a perfect fit in my arms, warm and…cuddly. Like a cat."

Malcolm laughed. "I am not cuddly."

Jon kissed his cold wet nose. "You are. But I won't tell anyone."

***

They continued to follow the slowly degrading warp trail of the alien vessel.

Each day Jon's transformed bridge crew were beginning to display more and more characteristics of the creatures they had been changed into and Phlox could do nothing about their slow evolution toward their animal nature. Trip was driven to chew on things and indulged in playful behavior, rolling around with Porthos and once in a while helplessly compelled to chase Malcolm. Hoshi was skittish and hyper alert, beginning to shy away from human contact. There was a restlessness in Travis from being cooped up and T'Pol had a craving for raw meat, which she controlled only by sheer willpower and frequent meditation. Jon had brought a makeshift scratching post into their quarters after Malcolm had told him, feeling slightly distressed and uneasy, that he had an overwhelming urge to use his claws. Preferably on Trip the next time the Commander tried to hound him.

Hoshi and Travis exercised by racing back and forth through the cleared cargo bay. Half of the female crewmembers, and several of the male crewmembers, eagerly volunteered to assist in grooming Travis, although Ensign Carlyle's inspiration of braiding his tail and festooning it with bright green ribbons was not appreciated.

Hoshi nearly impaled Crewman Bartle when he made the unfortunate mistake of startling her. But it wasn't anything Doctor Phlox couldn't handle and it made the bloodworms happy.

T'Pol could swoop down and snatch a scanner out of your hand with a stealth and speed that was startling. Jon had the feeling that she was enjoying herself as she sailed down the corridors each night, forced into a nocturnal existence. She and Malcolm would often meet in the late hours and prowl the ship, both being night owls and feeling the need to engage in mock predatory hunts. Lieutenant Hess had built a small mechanical mouse for the two to stalk, programming it to randomly cruise the mostly deserted corridors late at night, its path varying. T'Pol was ahead, six to five, in the capture of the faux creature.

The fourth day brought about the 'catnip incidence', an unfortunate mix-up between hydroponics and the galley staff. Trip ragged Malcolm mercilessly about it, until Trip's side visit to sickbay on the sixth day caused by ingesting far too many table scrapes from obliging crewmates, as well as part of an old boot. Phlox suggested that Trip indulge in his need to chew on something with an item a bit more digestible. And to go easy on the desserts. Jon gave Trip one of Porthos' old chew toys, which Trip accepted with a grimace of distaste. But he chewed on it nevertheless.

After that Trip didn't even tease Malcolm about the hairball he coughed up in the armory.

Travis broke his leg on the seventh day during an ill conceived vaulting contest against Hoshi.

They didn't shoot him, as Trip jokingly suggested after the crisis had been handled. Several other female crewmembers volunteered to nurse Travis back to health.

Jon began to feel a certain sympathy and spiritual connection with Noah.

***

On the eighth night Jon was stretched out on the bed, Porthos at his feet and Malcolm sprawled on his back, catnapping on Jon's lap. Jon was rubbing Malcolm's belly, something that both of them were surprised to discover sent Malcolm into a boneless nirvana, relaxing him to point of passing out in bliss, purring so loudly in his sleep that Jon swore the bed vibrated.

And he had to admit, feeling a bit kinky and mortified, it didn't feel too bad on his crotch either. He distracted himself by watching a movie, turning the volume up to hear the dialogue over Malcolm's vocalizations. Not that it would disturb his transmuted lover. Jon didn't think a Suliban attack would wake him when he was like this.

So when the comm sounded, Jon merely slung a still slumbering Lieutenant Floppy Puddle of Ecstacy over his shoulder and got up to answer the hail. He didn't even bother to lower his voice.

The officer on duty notified the Captain that sensors showed that the alien ship was at a standstill and nearby.

Jon ordered a tactical alert and asked for his remaining healthy command staff to meet on the bridge.

He held Malcolm at arm's length and jostled him, loudly telling him to wake up. Malcolm opened one sleepy eye and Jon dropped him on the bed, fully waking his disgruntled lover, who became more disgruntled as Porthos ran a dripping tongue over his head in a chipper display of affection.

Jon removed his cat hair covered shirt and slipped into his uniform. "We should be within range of that ship in about twenty minutes."

Malcolm stretched sinuously and yawned, then swiftly groomed himself, rolling on Jon's discarded shirt first to remove the majority of the dog spit. He ran a tongue dampened paw quickly over his whiskers and face, smoothing his fur, his tail snaking back and forth in restless anticipation. He sharpened his claws hastily against the scratching post, ears flattened and teeth bared.

Malcolm followed Jon out of their quarters, battle ready and eager to scratch the eyes out of whoever had done this to him and his shipmates.

***

Trip and T'Pol coaxed a timid Hoshi to the situation room, the confined space and close proximity of their human replacements on the bridge making her even more high strung. She preferred to spend time with Travis, his shape more familiar and comforting. Trip had to remember to curb his enthusiasm around Hoshi for sudden movements startled her in reaction to her new life as a prey animal. Intellectually she knew that none of her crewmates were going to try to eat her, but there were just some responses that were instinctual.

Like Trip's new habit of sniffing people when greeting them. He tried to catch himself to avoid the embarrassment, on both parties parts. But sometimes he just got excited. Phlox was the only one that didn't mind. And that kind of grossed Trip out. He decided that being a dog wasn't that great.

He couldn't wait to tear the throat out of the people who had done this to him.

T'Pol hooted soothingly to Hoshi as she perched on the situation room computer table. It was illogical, T'Pol knew, but it seemed to calm the Ensign. T'Pol studied the sensor readings of the motionless ship as she continued to make low sounds to put Hoshi at ease.

The lift door opened and the Captain, Malcolm at his heels, walked in.

Trip bounced forward to greet him and stopped, barely catching himself in time. He veered toward the engineering consol, trying to look nonchalant, but heard Malcolm snicker. Trip growled at him and Malcolm walked close to him, passing under Trip's nose and giving his tail a little flick at the last minute.

"Status," Jon asked as he made his way to the command chair.

"Sensors indicate one life form of indeterminate origin. Ship's systems are powered down, no discernible weapons," T'Pol reported crisply.

"Try to hail them."

Hoshi's replacement sent out a general greeting and they were met by silence.

Jon rose and was walking forward toward the view screen when, out of nowhere, with no preamble, no flash of light, no sound, something large, hairy and white appeared in front of him.

***

It looked like a yeti. An abominable snowman. Or maybe even bigfoot, if bigfoot was pure white. The reflexes from his transfigured bridge crew was almost instantaneous. Hoshi started violently and leapt over the situation table, head down and lethal horns aimed at the intruder. Trip barked and bounded over, going for the ankles, while Malcolm letting out a blood curdling yowl and landed on the interloper's face.

The hairy face of the yeti looked shocked, then pained as Malcolm's claws swiped across its nose. Trip knocked it over, saving it from being impaled by Hoshi, who managed to step on its stomach with her sharp hoofs. It let out a grunt and a groan, and a thin piping wail of pain as Trip bite its leg.

Hoshi and Trip were flung back as if by an invisible force. Malcolm hung on tenaciously, claws tangled in the white hair and then the being changed before Jon's eyes.

A wizened, ancient man, with more wrinkles than a Shar-Pei's neck, lay upon the ground, flowing white hair and beard, an angry cat still attached to his face. Malcolm's replacement trained the phase pistol which Malcolm kept under his consol on the alien.

"Get it off!" the old man rasped and Trip responded.

Trip grabbed Malcolm by the head. He tore Malcolm off the man, hanging on tight as Malcolm struggled and cursed. Jon couldn't quite make out the words, muffled as they were by Malcolm's head being totally engulfed in Trip's mouth.

Luckily golden retrievers have very soft mouths.

Trip let Malcolm hang there, until Malcolm's exertions slowed and finally a pitiful mewl issued from the depths of Trip's oral cavity.

"Y'all cooled down now?" Trip asked. Although it sounded like "Oaw coodunnah?" to Jon.

A feeble meow was heard.

"Trip, put him down," Jon said with long suffering patience as he eyed the old man, who was dabbing at his scratched face with gnarly fingers.

Trip opened his mouth and let Malcolm drop.

Malcolm panted, mouth open and tongue out. When he caught his breath he batted his paw across Trip's nose, claws sheathed.

"You bloody pillock!" Bat. "I bloody well could have suffocated!" Bat, bat. "And what the hell have you've been eating? It smells like a bleedin' bog in there!" Malcolm aimed another blow at Trip's nose and Trip moved, leaving Malcolm's paw to swish through the air.

"Malcolm," Jon said sharply and Malcolm glared at him before stalking over to the old man. Jon quickly picked Malcolm up, taking care not to touch the slobber coating his head.

"Jon!" Malcolm protested and tried to squirm out of his grasp, but Jon held on and rounded on the alien.

"Are you responsible for this?" Jon demanded, holding Malcolm out and shaking him a bit for emphasis. Malcolm let out a low rowr-sounding grumble. "Oops, sorry," Jon said and brought Malcolm back against his chest. Jon stroked Malcolm's ruffled fur as he stared at the alien.

The old man looked at Jon in bewilderment. "Of course. Don't you like it?"

***

"Like it?!" Trip roared, surging forward, his outrage apparent.

Jon snagged him by the scruff of his neck and Malcolm tried to wriggled out of Jon's grasp while the Captain was distracted. Jon shifted Malcolm under his arm, holding him like a football as he moved to stand astride Trip's back, squeezing his legs together to keep the angry engineer trapped.

Jon hoped that T'Pol and Hoshi wouldn't try to reap their revenge. He had his hands full at the moment and both women had sharp, pointy appendages that he would rather not have to contend with.

The old man looked surprised and cringed a bit as Trip growled at him.

"I had the impression that you'd like it. It's his fault," the old man pointed one shriveled finger at Jon.

Jon hadn't known that gazelles could make such an angry sound. Or owls.

Listen, just turn them back the way they were," Jon said with haste as he readjusted his grip on Malcolm, who had managed to squirm his way backwards, his body dangling while his back paws pedaled furiously in the air, trying to find a part of Jon's body to brace himself against. His head was trapped between Jon's elbow and side, and Jon could feel the vestiges of Trip's saliva seeping into his uniform. Jon couldn't count how many uniforms he had gone through this week, what with Trip's drool and Malcolm's hair all over them. He wasn't very popular with the laundry staff at the moment.

Jon tried to readjust his grip on Malcolm, but Trip strained forward, and Jon bent over to put his free arm around the fuming engineer's chest, holding him back.

"Why should I?" the ancient man asked, a petulant scowl on his face, his tone cantankerous.

"Because I'll rip your bleedin' tongue out if you don't," Malcolm snapped as he freed himself with flexible twist that would have been the envy of any gymnast. He landed with a soft plop, leaning back on his haunches, ready to pounce. The fur on the top of his head was badly rumpled and spiked up thanks to Trip's spit.

"Stand down, Lieutenant," Jon ordered, his voice commanding. "Sit, Trip," he directed and Trip sat automatically. "Stay."

Jon strode forward and extended his hand toward their 'guest'. He helped the old man to his feet.

"Look, we don't want to hurt you, and I apologize for my crew's rudeness," Jon glared at each of his transformed bridge crew before continuing, "But you have to admit that their hostility is justifiable—"

"Yes, one does become rather belligerent after waking up to a Kafkaesque nightmare," Malcolm muttered to Trip, his tail thrashing side to side. Malcolm licked his paw and tried to smooth his fur.

"That's the guy that was turned into a giant cockroach, right?" Trip asked. "You should see the comic book version of it." Trip shuddered.

"Guys," Jon hissed. He steadied the old man who was busy brushing himself off with a vigorous intensity.

"They're very messy, aren't they? I suppose it's all that hair…" the old man muttered to himself.

"Try feathers," T'Pol said in a testy undertone to Hoshi.

Malcolm's tail was lashing back and forth faster, his impatience apparent. "I say we destroy the old bugger's ship if he doesn't comply."

The old bugger in question looked at him, startled. He squinted at Malcolm.

"I thought you'd be bigger." He looked at Jon. "I was never very good at converting mathematical units." He tugged his ear and the relief bridge crew disappeared without warning, and Travis appeared in the middle bridge, his broken leg encased and looking surprised.

"What—" Travis began, but the old man clapped his hands in glee.

"Oh! He's very pretty!" He moved to run a prehistoric hand down Travis' neck and Travis shied away the best he could.

"Oh, you have ouu-ouu! Poor thing," the old man cooed and wiped his nose. The covering vanished and Travis was standing solidly on all fours. By the look on his face, the pain was gone and the helmsman took a tentative step, then walked forward with more confidence, his face breaking into a horsey show of teeth.

Trip was on his feet, alert and ready to attack. Malcolm had placed himself between the alien and Jon, but both officers restrained themselves when they saw that Travis was healed.

"Thank you," Jon said simply. The old man nodded and touched Travis, running his hand down the ensign's neck. Travis stood quietly, watching his Captain for any cue.

Do you people really eat these things?" the old man asked Jon, gesturing vaguely at the animals around them as he made his tottering way over to Hoshi and T'Pol. He tried to touch one of T'Pol's large eyes and she snapped her beak at him before fluttering away to her station.

"No. No, not really…but let's get back on track. Could you please change them back to the way they were?" Jon asked again as patiently as possible.

The old man stretched out a palsied hand to Hoshi and she shuddered as he touched her, using all her willpower not to give into her nature and bolt. He felt the tip of one of her horns, his finger running down it. "Amazing. So strong yet so fragile looking…"

He turned and walked carefully over to Trip. He bent over and ran his hand down Trip's side briskly.

Trip couldn't help it. The alien was rubbing that spot. Trip's leg started to thump against the deck and he flopped onto his back, leg bouncing and eyes closing, tongue out.

"Lord, Trip, you'll just roll over for any alien, won't you?" Malcolm snorted in disgust.

The old man smiled and gave Trip a few more vigorous pats before righting himself again. Trip opened his eyes and rose to his feet, shaking himself and managing to look a bit chagrined.

When the alien approached Malcolm, the armory officer moved away with a slow insulting deliberation. He settled close to Jon, eyeing the old man with suspicion. Trying to look nonchalant, Malcolm absently stretched out a hind leg and groomed between his toes, but his furiously twitching tail and alert quivering ears gave him away.

"Quite the contortionist, Malcolm," Trip sniped, still embarrassed by his display. "No wonder you're coughing up hair balls left and right…"

Malcolm stopped abruptly. "As if you haven't been licking yourself every chance you get, Commander," Malcolm hissed, his catty comment thick with innuendo.

Trip growled and started toward him and Malcolm was on his feet, back arched and claws out.

"Guys!" Jon shouted. His officers froze and sat back down, giving each other dirty looks.

"Please. Just turn them back. Before they all start forgetting to act like civilized people," Jon added, glaring at Trip and Malcolm.

"Case you forgot, I'm a dog," Trip said sourly. "Thanks to you," he added churlishly and Jon winced.

"So, you don't like this?" the old man interrupted.

The chorus of "no's" was quite loud.

The old man looked at the menagerie about him, a dubious expression on his face. "I'm not quite sure I can…"

Five very angry and savage looking animals advanced on him.

"…But I'll try," he said with haste and he wiggled his ears.

***

The pain in his head was excruciating. Jon felt as if his body was melting, then reforming and freezing, then melting again. The cycle repeated and he caught glimpses of himself as he changed.

His arms were covered with hair, long and strong, and he saw a distorted reflection of baboon staring at him, then he had hoofs and his ears felt odd, a donkey's face looking back at him. Then he stretched, a feathered two meter wing span, and he wanted to soar like an eagle. He dissolved again, head exploding and his four slender gazelle-like legs teetered beneath him. The pain increased and he started to change again and he barely heard the two new voices.

"Oh, bompa…not again," a soft female voice cried. Everything froze, the pain disappeared and his vision cleared.

Two indistinct but incandescent masses shimmered in front of him, the old man between them. Jon checked his bridge crew.

They were on the floor, still in their animal forms, unmoving and eyes closed, dead or unconscious he could not tell.

"What have you done to my people?" he exclaimed, trying to get to his feet.

"They will be fine. Accept our apologies, please. Bompa meant no harm. We came as quickly as possible when we realized he had wandered away again." The voice was a strong tenor, male and kind sounding.

"Bompa. How many times have we told you to look, but not to touch," the woman's voice scolded gently.

"But they're so interesting. I couldn't help myself," the old man whined.

"They are sentient, Bompa. You have caused them great distress. Now apologize to the nice alien."

"Sorry," he said crossly.

"And again, our deepest apologies, sir. Bompa is a bit…senile would be your term. He really didn't mean any harm." The female voice sighed. "It's like having a child again. You always have to watch them. I'm afraid someone let their attention lapse," she said, a little sharply, and the male lightball dimmed a bit.

There was a flash of light and Jon passed out.

***

Jon woke up in sickbay, his bridge crew on the bio beds. Travis, Hoshi and T'Pol were awake, Phlox hovering over them. He injected all three with a hypospray, and Travis and Hoshi laid back down, clutching their heads and moaning softly.

"There, there, ensigns. That will take effect soon enough," Phlox said soothingly. "It should put you to sleep for a few hours and the headache should be gone by then." T'Pol merely nodded, looking grateful, and she eased herself down as well, closing her eyes.

Jon looked at the biobed where Trip slumbered, on his side, arms and legs hanging over the edge. His limbs twitched as if running, and he whined a little in his sleep.

Then Jon drank in the form of lover, curled up in a tight little ball on the biobed, head nestled in the crook of one arm. He was relaxed and perfectly still, his sleep tranquil.

Phlox came over and fussed over Jon, telling him that one minute the sick bay was empty and the next they were all there, his bridge crew restored to their human shapes and complaining of agonizing headaches.

As far as Phlox could tell, they were all in perfect condition. He had given them all pain killers and offered them all something to help them sleep, which, to his surprise, no one had turned down. Not even the Sub-Commander.

Jon looked at his bridge crew again, all healthy and whole again, all sleeping peacefully. He smiled.

***

Jon opened his door and grinned when he saw Malcolm, clad in a faded pair of jeans, his tee shirt neatly tucked into his pants.

"I thought Porthos was with you," Jon said.

Malcolm smirked. "Trip practically begged me to let him walk him. Seems he's missed his playmate. I'd say we won't see either of them for hours."

Jon kissed Malcolm and pulled him inside, tugging at his tee shirt and slipping it off over his head.

"Jon—" Malcolm protested through a surprised laugh.

"Come on, Porthos is gone, and you're you again." He fumbled at the top button of Malcolm's jeans, and Malcolm laughed again, twisting away lithely.

"You're hopeless, you know that, love?" He kicked off his shoes and stripped off his socks in one graceful movement and launched himself onto the bed. Jon jumped on top of him, kissing him, just enjoying the feeling of his beloved's body beneath him again. They wrestled a bit and then Malcolm was on top, licking Jon's ear, nibbling his neck, trailing kisses across his face. Malcolm suddenly nuzzled him, butting into Jon's chest, rubbing his head across it, a low sound emanating from his throat.

Jon laughed and hugged him and Malcolm blushed and turned over on his back, head pillowed on Jon's shoulder.

"Sorry. I can't help it. Trip's been pestering Chef for beef jerky, wanting something to chew on. And Travis and Hoshi have been running sprints down in the cargo bay." Malcolm chuckled. "T'Pol's even been seen snacking on sunflower seeds. She looks quite flustered every time she's caught."

Jon laughed with him and let his hand drift.

He rubbed Malcolm's stomach and Malcolm moaned. His eyes rolled up and his body went slack, and that low sound he had made before grew louder.

Jon continued for a while, then stopped before Malcolm passed out completely. After all, he did have plans for the evening and they didn't include Malcolm being limp.