(Another short one. Hopefully the rest wont be.)

Chapter 7: The Late Sherman Tecumseh Potter

It was night when they were ordered off the truck and ushered into the Chinese camp. A modest location, it was comprised of four tents mashed into a circle around a small clearing a few kilometers off a main road. A small generator pumped electricity to a hand full of lights, illuminating the site in an eerie glow. Huddles of human forms crunched together to keep warm at the epicenter. A very small force. Only about a dozen men. The group looked more like a militia than a branch of the Chinese Armed Forces. They had the brown, double-breasted tunic, wool limed caps, etc and were generally in uniform, but they looked ragtag and embittered, as if they had endured a long tour. Exceptionally so. Hawkeye knew that deadeye gawk. GIs called it the bone yard stare.

Surprisingly, their captors lowered their guns and disappeared inside a nearby tent. Indy struggled to see through the flap while Hawkeye found little relief in the dark, gloomy sky. "See a bad moon rising, Pierce?"

"No, I see a star falling," Hawkeye answered, his first words since reading Potter's letter. "Mine."

"Buck up," Indy ordered bracingly.

"Sorry. I'll try to look less like I know I'm about to die. At least I won't have to break the news to everybody." The men returned and waved them over, guns drawn. "Our table's ready." Once side, the two gun-toting soldiers excused themselves.

Inside the tent, Indy expected to see the commanding officer wallowing in better comforts, no doubt a man above his peers. On the contrary, the ten proved minimal. There were a couple of chairs, a desk, and a desk light. No cot. He had his back to them. He sported a buzz cut and a visible scar on the back of his head that ran from the top of his skull to the bottom of his neck. He appeared to be writing something; pointedly pretending he didn't notice them. This little façade went on for several minutes; the only sound in the tent the scratching of his pen on paper.

He finally turned to face them, taken aback to see them standing there, as if it were all some chance meeting. He looked to be about in his mid forties, though he had a few extra wrinkles to his credit that belonged on an older man. His lip line was impressively long on both ends and touched both ears when he smiled and stood to greet them.

"Dr. Indiana Jones," he began with strikingly perfect English. "You're reputation had me thinking you much larger than life. I can see now I had no reason to fear." He looked him up and down, noting the thick layer of grit that covered Jones from head to toe.

"Who might you be?" Indiana pondered, ignoring the jab.

"My rank will be sufficient. Major. And who are you soldier?" The Major asked of Dr. Pierce, who didn't answer.

"That's Doctor Pierce. He's with a mobile army surgical hospital. A MASH. 4077."

"4077…" The major seemed taken away for a moment, thinking on the number. He shook the thought. "Can't he speak for himself?"

"Not up to it."

"I see." He didn't like that. There was a certain incensed curl in his voice that tipped Indy off. "I'd have my men loosen your tongue if I had the time."

"Here it comes," Indy whispered. Wasn't the first time he'd played mister step 'n fetch for an enemy. Always easier to let the old horse that knows how its done grab what you're looking for. His tangles with his old nemesis, Rene Belloq, were never far from his mind. The smarmy Frenchman hated getting his hands dirty, settling on trailing Jones the whole way until it was time to claim a prize he didn't have to work for, relying on finding the muscle to help him do it. However, as the old saying warns, he didn't keep an eye on who he chose to know and it cost him. Being the better men didn't mean you won every day; it meant you lived to see the next.

"You two will be going inside the temple."

"Two," Hawkeye repeated, his eyes alive again…with fear. "I'm not going in there with him. He's the archeo—"

"You will go!" The major was not a man who took to his orders being questioned, especially by prisoners.

"Nope." Hawkeye defiance made Indiana nervous. He put a hand on his back to silently caution him. He wouldn't have any of it. He shook his head and continued to refuse the order. "Why bother? We're gonna die anyway. Might as well keep the trend going. CO dead, chief surgeon dead. Keep it going. You're on a roll."

Thee major's smile widened. "I seems I have found the right incentive." With that revelation he hollered in Chinese. His voice carried outside. Booming. There was a sudden commotion out in the camp. Hawkeye shrunk from his post and held his breath, sure that the final moments of his life were at hand. Outside, a voice, muffled by distance, but clearly familiar melted his icy depression, sending a chill and a burst of elation through his body.

"Damn it!" … "Keep your hands off me!" … "You understand English?!" … "What in the name of Samuel bless-ed Adams are you doing?!"… "My arm's still attached, Bozo!"

Next Chapter: Reunion & The Puzzle of the Temple Guard.