Disclaimer: I do not own Enterprise or Star Trek. Paramount does. Please do not sue me because I'm not making any money off of this, and it's not like I've got anything you'd want anyway.
Drifting
By The Intrepid Traveler
A/N: This is my very first Enterprise fanfiction. Please bear with me, because I'm learning.
Also, a warning: this fic is not kind to Malcolm Reed. If you don't like stories involving torture or pain, don't read this fic.
And please review, because any criticism I can get will help me. Thanks.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Kihran Ushku was a drifter... that had always been his lot in life. And as he thought about it, he realized now that it would most likely be his ending as well. 'How very appropriate' he thought. 'As I began, so shall I end.' However, as Kihran looked back on his journey, he realized that perhaps this was a most merciful end, to die alone, drifting in out and out of consciousness, drifting in space. Abandoned and unwanted by his parents as a child, Kihran had drifted from home to home, from family to family searching for one that would welcome him and make him feel wanted. As the years went by he began to accept that he would never be wanted by anyone. Now, he found himself a wanted man, but not in the way that he wished. As blackness claimed him, however, Kihran could not feel sorry for himself. All he could think about was the fact that the pain, which had once seemed never ending, had finally ceased. And that the silence around him sounded like music. And that for the first time in many years, Kihran had hope. Hope in the form of a small silver machine, hidden away where nobody would ever think to look for it.
The blackness engulfed Kihran before he had a chance to hear the silence broken by a shrill wail meant to inform him that his ship was being hailed.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Captain Jonathan Archer stepped briskly out of the turbolift onto the bridge, eager to hear what his senior crew had discovered in his absence. While space exploration could at times be frenetic and dangerous, recently life on the ship had become somewhat boring. After all the recent excitement, the crew was grateful to be back to their original mission of exploration at long last. In the beginning, the peace and quiet of the crew returning to a daily routine was welcome. Movie night was reinstated. People began to smile and relax once again. However, it had been over two months since the ship had come across any planets worth exploring. In that time, the contentment they had experienced at first had worn off. They had all spent the time performing much needed maintenance on the ships systems. However, even the ships systems no longer needed that much attention, as the repairs had been completed rather quickly and efficiently. Captain Archer could tell that his crew was beginning to go a bit stir crazy. Today, however, was proving to be an interesting day as the Captain had awoken to T'Pol's voice telling him they had found something unusual, and that he should come immediately to the bridge.
"Captain," T'Pol stated firmly, her tone cautious and betraying no emotion. "I am detecting a small vessel approximately 2.4 light years from us. It appears to be some form of escape pod."
"Anybody we know?" Captain Jonathan Archer asked casually, stepping out of his chair, as though to get a better look at the small, aged ship that appeared on the view screen in front of him.
"No, Captain. I am not familiar with the ship's design." his Chief Science Officer informed him. "There is one biosign aboard, but it is weak."
The Captain turned to address his Communications officer. "Hoshi, try hailing them" he ordered.
"No response, sir." Hoshi replied.
"Have you detected any sign of a larger ship nearby, Subcommander, or any distress calls?"
"No Captain… There is also no debris or signs of a wreckage within 20 light years of here. It is most unusual."
"Well, where the hell did this pod escape from then?" the Captain asked, his curiosity peaked. He turned to his Armoury officer. "Can we bring the grappler online, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir" Lt. Reed replied, obligingly.
"Let's reel it in and get a medical team to the launch bay" The Captain ordered.
"And a security team as well, I would assume," stated Lt. Reed.
The Captain simply nodded absentmindedly as everybody focused on the task at hand and within moments Enterprise had locked on to the small vessel and hauled it aboard.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Malcolm Reed was not having a good day. In fact, when it came down to it, Malcolm Reed could not remember the last time he had actually had a good day. But this particular day struck him as being especially horrible.
He had spent all of the previous night working on his forcefield. He had been trying recently to perfect it and adapt it so that it might further secure the brig, and possibly other areas of the ship, but had been making very little progress. After giving up in frustration he had decided to spend some time realigning the targeting scanners to clear his mind. Not that they needed realigning. They were perfect, just as they had been for the past week. The entire armoury was in better condition, in fact, then it had been when the ship had first left space dock four years ago. His staff had been on top of every problem they'd had this past month. He'd even caught them mopping the floor and polishing the equipment. Normally if he had a bit of time, he'd use it to keep everybody up on their training, but it wasn't necessary. His security staff, due to a complete lack of anything else to do for the past two months, were now more than proficient with a variety of small arms and forms of self-defence. His department now had the highest efficiency rating on the ship. All in all, Malcolm was feeling quite useless.
And so last night, he had set his alarm to wake him up a bit later than usual. 'Why rush to my shift early, only to spend the time doing nothing?' he thought. Only his alarm hadn't gone off at all. He had woken up late, and been forced to rush to his bridge shift without showering or eating, and had arrived twenty minutes late despite his efforts. He was certain to be reprimanded for that later. On top of everything, he was late for the first shift in months where any remotely interesting was going on.
'And of course,' thought Malcolm, 'the Captain wouldn't think to send a security team to meet our visitor without me reminding him. It's not like we've ever encountered anybody hostile before, so why would he?' Sarcasm was his friend in this kind of a mood.
And so here he was, standing in the launch bay waiting to see what it was exactly that this escape pod would present. And wishing subconsciously for it to be something dangerous so that he would feel needed again.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
The pod was definitely not from any alien ship that Enterprise had ever encountered. That much could be agreed upon by everybody in the room. It was long and cylindrical, made of a rough red metal and dented and beaten in on all sides. It was barely big enough for a human, but big enough perhaps to survive in. 'If, that is, the alien inside of it bears any resemblance to a human.' thought Malcolm. At one end of the cylinder was the outline of a door, easily spotted. Whatever was inside, it would be out soon enough.
"Somebody help me get it open," Captain Archer demanded, pushing on the door looking for an opening. His chief engineer, Trip Tucker, handed him a plasma torch and the two of them began to slowly cut away the door.
A gasp could be heard as the pod door opened, and a whir of machinery could be heard inside the small ship. Malcolm and the other two members of his security team noticeably tensed, their hands instinctively going for the phase pistols at their sides Captain Archer and Trip barely had time to back away before a small section of the pod was ejected out of the door revealing a bizarre looking humanoid alien nestled inside.
It was slightly smaller than a human and had pale green skin, mottled and rough like the skin of a pineapple, covered in discoloured patches. It had thick black hair that ran all the way down to its shoulders in chunks, long and rope-like. Its hands contained only three thick fingers, with nails like a cats, sharp on the ends. However, despite the intimidating nature of his features, it was clear that this alien was very frail. Most importantly however, this alien was very clearly unconscious and bleeding.
"Doctor," Archer said as Doctor Phlox pushed by him to scan and observe his newest patient.
As he ran his scanner over the alien, the crew present could only watch quietly as the doctor worked quickly, making the occasional noise as he came across something interesting. Finally, he turned to the Captain.
"Captain, we have to get this man to sickbay immediately."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
The sickbay lights were harsh and uninviting, reminding Malcolm once again why he hated the place so much. Well, that was one of the reasons. The other was standing right in front of him, tending to his patient and grinning like the Cheshire Cat, unaware of the black cloud hanging over Malcolm's head. 'How can he possibly be so bloody cheerful all the time?' thought Malcolm.
"Well Doctor, what can you tell us?" the Captain asked.
"It is lucky, Captain, that we found that escape pod when we did. If our friend here's wounds and injuries had gone unattended much longer, he would have died."
"What happened to him, Doc? I mean, where'd his ship go?" asked Trip.
"I can't tell you the location of the ship, Mr. Tucker, but I can tell you what happened to my patient. Although I'm not sure how much help that information will be.
"What do you mean?" the Captain asked.
"Well Captain, judging by the pattern of the bruising and the broken bones I would say that this man was beaten, rather severely."
"Beaten?" asked Malcolm, his curiosity peaked.
"Yes," replied the Doctor. "And quite possibly tortured as well, judging by some of the burn marks on his arms."
The room went silent for a moment as this information was processed.
"Maybe it's a good thing that there's no sign of his ship, then." the Captain said, disturbed by the revelation. "Can you help him Doctor?"
"He should be fine. I've stopped the internal bleeding, and set some of the broken bones. The swelling is beginning to go down. I'll have him good as new in no time at all."
"That's good, because I have more than a few questions for him. For now however, let's all leave the doctor to his patient."
As everyone began to file out of the room, Malcolm pulled the Captain aside. "Captain," he said respectfully, "Permission to post a security team in sickbay."
The Captain took a moment to consider Malcolm's request before answering. "Not this time, Lieutenant." he informed him.
"Beg your pardon, sir?" Malcolm asked.
"Under the circumstances I'd have to say no, Malcolm." the Captain replied. "That man in there has clearly been abused and held prisoner. Waking up on a strange ship and seeing an armed security team may panic him. Besides Lieutenant, he's clearly in no condition to present a danger to anybody." the Captain stated.
"I disagree sir. We have no idea how quickly he'll heal, or why he's in this condition in the first place. If you're concerned about him panicking, I don't have to have my men in sickbay. I could post them just outside the doors, sir." Malcolm argued.
"I just don't think it would be a good idea, Lieutenant."
"But sir," Malcolm plead.
"I understand why you feel we should be careful Malcolm, but I've made my decision on this." With this, the Captain quickly left down the hallway, leaving a silently fuming security officer behind him.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Later that day, Malcolm sat in the mess hall drinking his coffee as usual, alone. In front of him was a padd full of data on his forcefields. However despite his attempts to focus, he could not get his mind off of the conversation with Captain Archer in sickbay. His argument with the Captain was certainly not unusual. They often clashed over the matter of the ships security. 'Why did that argument sting so much then?' thought Malcolm, his foul mood becoming worse. Before he could contemplate the answer to that question however, he was joined at his table by Ensign Sato holding a plate of food, who seemed oblivious to the fact that there was a reason Malcolm had chosen to sit alone.
"Do you mind if I sit here?"
"Well, actually Ensign…" But Malcolm could tell before the sentence was even out of his mouth that Hoshi would have been disappointed and angry if he brushed her off. And for some reason Malcolm couldn't understand, it wouldn't feel right to have Hoshi mad at him. "Go ahead."
Hoshi took a seat across from him, and slowly began picking at her food, looking to Malcolm for conversation. Malcolm chose instead to go back to his work. An awkward silence settled over the table. Finally, Hoshi looked up from her food. "What are you working on?" she asked him. He didn't respond. "Malcolm!" she said firmly to get his attention.
"Sorry…" he said distractedly.
"What's so important that you have to work on it over your lunch break?" she asked seriously.
"Specs for the forcefield." he replied.
"The one you used when that creature attacked the Captain and Commander Tucker?" she asked.
"You should really be more specific Ensign. A great many creatures have attacked the Captain and Commander Tucker over the course of our voyage," he replied, harsher than he had intended, "But I know which one you mean. And yes it is the same forcefield."
"I hadn't realized you were still working on that." she stated, clearly stung by his attitude.
"I'm attempting to adapt it so that we can put it into practical use on the ship. In the brig for example, or to protect certain areas of the ship in the event that we're boarded." he told her. "It's taking a bit longer than I anticipated. There are a lot of variables to work out."
An uncomfortable silence once again settled over the table, and Malcolm resumed his work. Finally, he broke the silence. "I'm sorry Ensign. I'm afraid I'm not the best company today." he told her.
"Why's that?" she asked.
"I'm not having a very good day."
"Yeah," Hoshi said sympathetically. "I noticed you were late for your shift this morning. That's not like you Malcolm."
"I overslept. The damned alarm didn't go off," he informed her, "Finding that escape pod didn't make the day any better."
"Is that what's bothering you?" Hoshi asked him. "Why would that bother you? You've dealt with worse things before. Even I've dealt with worse things before. This situation seems pretty harmless compared to some of the things we've faced."
"You don't have to tell me that Ensign. I know that," He snapped, "I'm not sure what's bothering me about it. I just have a feeling that this alien will be more trouble than he's worth."
"Have you talked to the Captain about this?" she asked, innocently.
At this, Malcolm could no longer be polite. "Of course I talked to the Captain about this! I informed him of my opinion as soon as the situation became clear, very respectfully I might add. And he very respectfully blew me off!"
"I'm sure the Captain considered your suggestions very carefully before he made a decision Malcolm. He wouldn't just blow you off." Hoshi told him, concerned by his anger.
"Right. I'm sure he did. The same as he has considered my suggestions in the past, when we've encountered the Klingons, or the Suliban for example. Apparently the Captain didn't learn anything from any of those situations." he told her, losing control of himself.
"Malcolm, I really think you're not seeing things clearly. If you would just look at things from a diplomatic perspective, instead of immediately thinking the worst…" she pleaded, but he interrupted her.
"So I'm a pessimist, is that it? Well, it would be nice to be able to look at things from the diplomatic perspective, Hoshi. But I can't do that. I have a responsibility to protect this crew above anything else. And so does the Captain. I wish he'd remember that sometimes." At this Malcolm excused himself from the table, embarrassed and left the mess hall for the safety of his quarters, where nobody else would have to put up with his rotten mood. 'I guess it's true. Misery really does love company.' he thought as he left an upset Hoshi sitting alone in the mess hall, who didn't have time to finish her lunch before her break ended.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Kihran slipped back into consciousness slowly, his eyes stinging as they attempted to adjust to the light. This light, though, was a bright soft light, so unlike the blackness of his pod. To Kihran's eyes, it was the light of heaven. 'I've been saved' he thought. 'A ship has answered my call. My day has finally come.' The pain which had been so persistent earlier had dulled considerably, and Kihran noticed that his movements were less restricted, however his arms were restrained to the bed. As his eyes focused he could make out a ceiling, grey and spotless above him. He turned his head slowly and made out the form of a bed next to his. Nobody was on it. Behind the bed, he could see a variety of creatures in cages. 'How peculiar,' he thought. 'What odd species resides here, that they would care for all these lesser creatures?' Perhaps, he considered, this was some form of laboratory. His considerations were cut short by a voice coming from his other side. Somebody was talking, but it sounded like gibberish. Kihran took a brief moment to understand the voice. As he turned his head his eyes were met by those of an alien. He was pleasant looking, with ridges at his eyes and a curious smile on his face.
"Hello there." The alien spoke to him. "I'm Doctor Phlox. You are on my ship, Enterprise. We rescued you from your escape pod. I realize that you probably can't understand me, as I cannot translate your language yet. But rest assured you are safe here. Soon Ensign Sato will be here and she can tell you that in your own language." The man chuckled to himself, not realizing that Kihran had understood every word he had said.
The doctor turned his back on Kihran and become occupied with several of the caged creatures. 'Now,' thought Kihran, 'I must finish what I started.' He quickly dislocated his wrists and slipped his arms easily out of the restraints, snapping them back into place when he finished. He reached to the table next to his bed and picked out a hypospray. The Doctor did not have time to even turn around before he was unconscious on the floor.
'Finally,' thought Kihran 'I will get my second chance.' He slipped out the sickbay doors and headed towards the shuttlebay. Nobody even noticed he was gone.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"We're being hailed, sir." Hoshi informed the Captain, her tone serious.
"Put them through, Ensign." the Captain ordered her. This was becoming a very interesting day. He hoped that Phlox could handle his patient for a few more minutes. It appeared Hoshi was going to be needed here.
A rather menacing looking alien appeared onscreen. He was black as the night, with pronounced ridges over his eyes, on his chin and running down his face. His eyes were yellow. 'The same as the Suliban's eyes,' Malcolm noted from his place at the tactical station. "We are the Karatesh from Bahrat. We are looking for an escaped prisoner. He is most dangerous. We have detected that he is aboard your vessel. Please relinquish him to us immediately or we will destroy your ship."
'Well,' thought Malcolm, automatically readying the weapons, 'These people certainly don't beat around the bush.'
"T'Pol," the Captain inquired, looking to her for how to proceed.
"Their ship is made of the same alloy and composition as the escape pod currently in our shuttlebay, Captain. It is reasonable to assume that the man currently in sickbay came from this ship." she stated evenly.
The Captain took a moment to decide how to proceed. His first thought was that he couldn't simply hand a beaten and abused man over to his tormentors, even if he was their prisoner. His second was that he needed more information on the man he had in sickbay before he could do anything. He decided to take the diplomatic approach. "My name is Captain Jonathan Archer. This is my ship, Enterprise. We didn't know who it was that we brought aboard. We were simply answering a distress call. And right on time too. Your 'prisoner' was dying."
"You should have allowed him to die. He would not have been mourned." the Karatesh stated angrily. "Return our prisoner now." the Karatesh demanded.
"We'll do so gladly," the Captain replied, choosing his words carefully, "However; we would be interested to know why this man is a prisoner aboard your ship first. I would hate to send a man into certain death without knowing why." Perhaps, he had not chosen them carefully enough. To his surprise, the Karatesh laughed at his comment.
"You are a most honourable man, Captain. I would feel the same way, if it were any other man. However Kihran Ushku is no ordinary man. He is a mass-murderer Captain, cold-blooded and calculated as they come. He is a war criminal. He cannot be allowed to roam free. If it means destroying your ship and killing your crew in order to kill him, we will do it. Trust me Captain, this man is not worth that."
"Somehow I don't doubt you." the Captain stated, understanding. He looked at Malcolm briefly, and knew his glance had been understood. Malcolm slipped out from behind his station and headed quickly to the lift. "We'll send your prisoner over in a shuttle with a security team."
"We would prefer to pick him up ourselves, Captain," the Karatesh told him. "He is a desperate, dangerous man Captain. We cannot risk him escaping again."
"Understood." replied Captain Archer. And he meant it.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Malcolm bolted out of the turbolift onto E-Deck, meeting up with several members of his security team already on their way to sickbay. 'A dangerous criminal' thought Malcolm. 'A bloody mass-murderer! And the Captain just left him in sickbay with the doctor.' One of his team handed him a phase pistol and they slowly made their way towards the sickbay doors. 'At least it's all over now,' he thought. 'We'll escort him to his own ship and that will be that.'
This was definitely not Malcolm's day. Upon entering sickbay two things were immediately clear. One, that Phlox was unconscious on the floor. And two, that his patient was nowhere to be found. Malcolm's team proceeded to look over the entire sickbay. He was gone.
Malcolm pulled out his communicator. "Reed to Archer."
"What is it Lieutenant?" Archer asked.
"He's not here, sir. From the looks of things, he attacked Phlox and took off." Malcolm informed him.
"Have your team start searching the ship, and give us a minute to scan for his biosign. T'Pol may be able to isolate where it is." the Captain stated.
'If he's still on the ship at all,' Malcolm thought darkly, assembling his team to give them instructions. As he sent them all off to start searching he realized that perhaps there was some truth in that thought. 'If I were in his shoes, I would want to get off of this ship as quickly as possible.' He took off for the launch bay, hoping to catch up to knowing he would never be able to live with himself if a dangerous war criminal escaped from his ship.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
He was there. He was exactly where Malcolm thought he would be, in the launch bay hunched over the systems trying to reroute them. Malcolm pulled his phase pistol and aimed very carefully. "Don't move." he stated clearly. Kihran tensed slightly. "Put your hands on your head and turn around or I will shoot you." 'What's the use?' thought Malcolm, 'He can't understand me. But he does understand the weapon pointed at him.'
He was surprised when Kihran did as he had asked, very slowly turning to face him with his hand behind his head. Malcolm pulled out his communicator with his free hand and flipped it open. "Reed to Archer."
"We know where he is Malcolm. He's in the launch bay," replied the Captain. "Meet us there."
"Why don't you meet me, sir." Malcolm replied. "I've already got him."
He put his communicator away, staring into the cold eyes of a murderer. He was shocked when Kihran spoke. In perfect English. "I suppose my ship will be here to pick me up soon." he stated quietly.
"You speak English? How is that possible?" asked Malcolm, perplexed.
"How is this ship possible? How is it possible that I am standing here? Or that we are breathing?" Kihran asked. "What is your name? Reed was it?"
"Don't try anything. There are more men coming to back me up. They'll be here in a second." Malcolm said, slightly scared by this man.
"They'll be too late." Kihran stated. And with that, he lunged at Malcolm, a blur that even Malcolm's sharp reflexes could not catch on time. His phase pistol flew out of his hand across the shuttlebay floor. He went down, with Kihran on top of him. He struggled but the alien was unexpectedly stronger than him, and despite his bad condition did not seem to feel much pain. As Malcolm struggled to grasp his phase pistol just out of arms length and gain the upper hand, he did not notice Kihran run his palm along his belt buckle, leaving a big red slice in the man's hand. Out of the slice, a small silver sliver slid from under the skin into Kihran's bloody palm. Kihran forced Malcolm down, yanked his arm up and forced the tiny piece of metal into Malcolm's palm harshly, cutting it wide open. "I will have my second chance." Kihran stated angrily.
Malcolm's body suddenly went numb. He couldn't feel anything. Or move anything. He couldn't twitch a finger, or blink his eyes. For a brief moment, he couldn't breath. His lungs heaved and he gasped for air that simply wouldn't come. And then, white-hot pain, as though he had been hit by a bolt lightning, searing him from the top of his head, down his spine, to the tips of his toes, burning him alive from the inside out, making him want to scream and beg for mercy. Only he couldn't. And then he knew nothing.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Captain Archer rushed through the launch bay doors followed by three members of Malcolm's security team, all bearing phase pistols. They immediately spotted what they were looking for and rushed over only to find that they weren't really needed. There standing over the unconscious body of Kihran Ushku was Malcolm, his phase pistol aimed at the man's head, breathing heavily and looking very ragged and beaten down. He and Kihran were both covered in blood and the Captain could see that Malcolm's hand was bleeding rather profusely.
"What happened?" the Captain demanded to know.
"He tried to take me down, Captain. Lunged at me. But I got the upper hand. Has his ship docked yet?"
"Any minute now." the Captain replied.
"Good. I want him off this ship immediately, sir." Malcolm stated angrily.
"I think I can easily arrange that, Lieutenant." the Captain agreed.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Captain Archer watched as the Karatesh hauled their unconscious prisoner aboard their ship. It was finally over. Malcolm observed the scene next to him, his face sombre. 'I guess I owe Malcolm an apology,' Archer thought. 'He was right about putting a security team in sickbay. And he got hurt because I didn't listen to him.' If there was one emotion that would drive the Captain to purge his emotions and become a Vulcan, it would be guilt. And at that moment it was overwhelming him.
"I'm sorry Malcolm", he stated quietly.
"About what, sir?" Malcolm asked, looking at him innocently.
'Well,' thought the Captain, 'I'm glad to know Malcolm's not going to hold this against me.'
The Karatesh officer who the Captain had spoken to earlier stepped forward. "I apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you Captain Archer. I am glad that you co-operated and we were not forced to destroy your ship. Perhaps we will meet again some day, under better circumstances."
"Perhaps," Archer stated, and shook his hand firmly. The Karatesh stepped briskly away and got into his ship. The Captain and Malcolm watched out an observation window as it left Enterprise and jumped to warp.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
He was cold. Freezing in fact. His shirt had disappeared. That was the first thing he was aware of as he regained consciousness. And he hurt. All over. The pain was intense. His entire body was throbbing with it. It was almost too much effort to open his eyes and take in his surroundings, but as he did one thought ran through his head. 'This is wrong,' he thought. 'This is very wrong.' The ceiling was black, and dirty, with one lone light bulb hanging down, swinging back and forth casting sharp shadows. He was leaning against a jagged stone wall; he could feel the rough stones digging into him, cutting him. He was restrained. The chains were heavy, it felt like iron. He could barely lift his arms or legs from the weight of them. The floor underneath him was covered in dirt. 'How long have I been unconscious?' he wondered. 'How did I get here?' His thoughts jumbled together in his mind, and he was stricken with intense panic, and fear like he had never experienced before.
Voices. A man's voice. He had heard that voice before, but he could not place it. It was booming, and loud. It scared him. Footsteps as the man came into the room. Without energy to look up, he simply saw his feet. Big boots, covered in dirt. He stared at them and tried to get the energy to look up at his captor, but those boots unexpectedly slammed into his bare stomach, preventing him from doing so. "You will pay, Kihran, for that escape attempt. You will pay dearly."
He didn't understand and he couldn't breath, the wind had been knocked out of him. He gasped for breath desperately, only to find his hair yanked painfully up by a large hand. And he found himself staring into a face as black as night, into cold yellow eyes. 'Yellow like the Suliban's' he thought, realization dawning.
His captor pulled a knife from his belt. "Now Kihran," his captor said, "I will make you bleed for every person who bled because of you."
And Malcolm Reed screamed in agony.