Title: Starfleet's Finest

Authors: Sita/T'eyla

AN: Thanks to Nala, KaliedescopeCat, and The Libran Iniquity for reviewing Chapter 2. Here's the next one, hope you like it! ;-)

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#3 Sharpshooter

"Students, I have to make an announcement. Last night somebody..." The headmaster let his eyes wander over the crowd of students. The assembly hall was utterly still.

"... somebody violated the School Rules in a way I would never even have thought possible. One of the students apparently left the building at night and launched some kind of... missile on the school grounds, smashing a window and causing an explosion in *my office*."

A few students giggled, and Mr. Clifton sent a piercing look in their direction. Immediately they fell silent again.

"The damage amounts to over £500 and I can assure you, we will find out who is responsible for this."

Until now, Malcolm had thought he was doing quite good, but as he watched Mr. Clifton pacing to and fro on the podium, his face getting redder and redder, his voice sounding more dangerous than ever, he suddenly felt like he was going to be sick any moment. He closed his eyes, praying he wouldn't really throw up in front of everybody. Maybe, maybe nobody would notice the sweat running down his face and the shaking of his hands as he stood amidst the other pupils, trying to look as innocent as everyone else.

He knew exactly who it had been, who had launched the explosive missile on the school grounds, causing £500 worth of damage in the headmaster's office. But he hadn't done it on purpose. Really, he hadn't.

Malcolm looked at the luminous figures of his alarm clock, pushed the covers aside and sat up. It was now 0100 hours and judging from the snores and even breathing coming from the other boys, his roommates were finally asleep. He'd been afraid he might doze off before he had the chance to put his plan into action, but actually it had been quite easy to stay awake. He was far too excited to fall asleep tonight. Tonight was The Night.

Quietly so as not to wake the other boys he got up and carefully lifted the mattress at the foot of his bed. Groping around he finally felt a cylindrical form brush against his fingertips and closed his hand around it, careful not to rip off the fuse as he pulled it out from under the mattress. He sat down on his bed and in the dim light coming from the alarm clock's display he examined it one more time. His Improved Fabulous Firespewing Fourteen-Inch Flash Rocket. It was lovely.

He'd been working on it for three weeks now, and although the rooms of the first-graders were being checked every week by the teachers, to his immense relief they had never found it. In every minute of his spare time he had poked it, prodded it, taking it apart and putting it back together again, thinking up new ways of improving it by adding new interesting mixtures of explosives he had pinched from the chemistry lab. He had even used some of the firecrackers from his collection, scraping out the powder and stuffing it into the rocket as well. Now, after three weeks, it finally met his standards of a Fabulous Firespewing Fourteen-Inch Flash Rocket, and was ready to be launched. Of course he couldn't possibly launch it during day time, because then he would be expelled faster than you could say "unauthorized possession of explosive missiles". But that was okay with him; at night the explosion would be even more impressive.

As he sneaked out of his room, heading down the corridor, suddenly a floorboard creaked under his bare foot. He jumped, throwing a nervous glance over his shoulder, but everything remained silent. Quickly and silently he ran down the stairs and finally opened the door of the first floor bathroom. He knew they always left the window open at night and as he carefully turned the handle, the window opened easily enough. Climbing onto the windowsill, he cradled his Fabulous Flash Rocket in his arms and jumped. He landed on the wet grass and stumbled, nearly falling, but caught himself in the last moment. Shivering in the cold air of the night he made his way across the lawn, heading for the sports grounds.

It was probably best to launch the rocket on the soccer field, because there weren't as many trees which could catch fire if something went wrong. Of course that wouldn't happen, but better to be safe than sorry. After weeks of planning and thinking, revising his plans again and again, he had come to the conclusion that it was best to proceed in the following order:

#1 On the day before The Night, hide a suitable stick (about twenty inches long, not too thick), a ball of string and a pair of scissors under the bushes next to the trashcans.

#2 DON'T FALL ASLEEP!!

#3 When leaving the room, don't forget to take a book of matches with you. Or better two.

#4 Leave the bathroom window open wide enough so you can easily get back inside.

Up to now, everything had worked out just fine. He found the plastic bag with the stick and the string and took it over to the middle of the soccer field, the spot he had picked as his Fabulous Firespewing Fourteen-Inch Flash Rocket Launching Site. Cutting off a piece of string, he tied the rocket to the stick and checked whether the knots were tight enough. Then he rammed the stick into the muddy ground, careful to drive it in deep enough so it wouldn't fall over. He stepped back, examining his handiwork. Steps #5 (Get your equipment) and #6 (Prepare the FFFIF-Rocket) were done, and now he could finally proceed to Step #7: Light the fuse.

He reached into his pajama pocket and got out the book of matches he'd brought with him (Step #3). Ceremoniously he struck one of the matches and a small flame appeared.

Anybody looking out the back windows right now will see you for sure.

The thought flashed through his mind and not for the first time he wished he had an Invisibility Cloak just like Harry Potter. That would certainly come in handy sometimes.

Dismissing the distracting thought, he took a step towards the rocket and with a hand which was shaking just the tiniest bit, he lit the fuse.

Mesmerized by the short string catching fire he remembered just in time Step #8: RUN!!!

When he had reached a safe distance, he turned around. Just that moment the Fabulous Firespewing Fourteen-Inch Flash Rocket took off with one hell of a bang, leaving a huge cloud of dust and smoke behind. Feeling an excited thrill, he watched the rocket gaining height. As it kept ascending, spurting jolts of fire, he couldn't help but grin. He had never thought it would go *that* high.

Suddenly, however, the rocket changed it's course, and when Malcolm saw where it was going, he felt as if all his insides had disappeared at once. The rocket was descending in a graceful arc, aiming directly for the school building. Malcolm clutched his face in terror as the Fabulous Firespewing Fourteen-Inch Flash Rocket kept whizzing on, getting closer and closer to one of the upper floor windows.

No, he thought, no no no no no no no – SMASH! The rocket went through the window, smashing it and showering the yard with thousands of tiny glass shards. For a moment there was silence. Then there was a bang as the rocket exploded just like he had planned, only that the explosion was a ten times more spectacular than he had ever imagined in his wildest dreams. Bolts of light, red, green, yellow, pink and blue, flashed up, crackling, banging and fizzing, and Malcolm remembered the bunch of firecrackers he had stuffed into the top of the rocket. He stood paralyzed, taking in the most horrible and most wonderful sight of his Fabulous Firespewing Fourteen-Inch Flash Rocket exploding in the headmaster's office.

All of a sudden, lights went on in most of the rooms and Malcolm could hear confused voices shrieking and shouting. Startled out of his trance, he remembered Step #9 of his plan: Get away before anyone comes to see what the noise is about. Taking one last look at the smoke billowing out of the headmaster's office window he turned around and ran.

"... and I assure you, when we've found out who is responsible for this, I will make sure he will never set a foot into this school again!"

Mr. Clifton sent a deadly glare across the crowd and Malcolm felt his insides contract. Step #10 "Get expelled and killed by your father" had never been part of his plan, and he didn't want it to be, either. His roommates hadn't noticed he'd been away; they had been standing in the corridor when he'd returned, looking what the noise was about. He'd told them he'd gone to the bathroom, and he was quite sure nobody else could have seen him as he had sneaked back inside, but still he expected the headmaster to call him up front any moment. Mr. Clifton, however, seemed to have finished. Stepping down from the podium, he gave a short, angry wave of his hand.

"Dismissed."

The students filed out of the room and Malcolm slunk up the stairs behind his classmates. He couldn't believe his luck. Maybe they would never find out, after all. He thought of the fantastic explosion he'd been able to conjure and smiled a little. The rocket had crossed the distance all the way from the soccer field to the headmaster's office window. That had to be at least 120 yards, maybe more. He considered. If he bought the Stupendous Sparkspurting Seventeen-Inch Star Rocket and improved it a little, maybe he could make it go over 200 yards.

With this happy prospect in mind, he followed the other boys into the classroom.

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Note: You aim, you shoot, you run.

Part #4 coming up soon...