Chapter Six

Malcolm carefully shut the door to the cargo bay behind him, surprised to see most of the group already there. Odd. He'd arrived especially early just to get everything ready.

"Hi Malcolm." Trip wore an infuriating grin upon his face as he greeted Malcolm, which immediately set of the alarms going in Malcolm's head. Any time Trip was grinning like that was a sure sign that he was up to some new mischief. Mischief usually having something to do with trying to see how red Malcolm's face could go when embarrassed - there'd been the Christmas karaoke just less than a year ago, when he'd forced Malcolm to get up and sing, the New Year's party when he'd dared a certain foolhardy young lady to kiss him when the countdown to New Year reached one. Whatever it was this time, it didn't spell good news for Malcolm.

It had been three months since Malcolm had first received that letter from the Order, and in that time there had been neither sight nor sound of the Dark Lord. The group had become relaxed, for once, and most of the meeting's were spent discussing old school memories. Malcolm for one did not argue with this - his brand didn't hurt half as much anymore, though that may have just been the painkillers he was stealing from sickbay when Phlox wasn't looking. What could go wrong?

That could, Malcolm thought, his eyes alighting upon the doorway, in which stood a terrifying sight. Elanor Lungbarrow, carrying a cake. A birthday cake. With thirty-four candles on it. Oh, God. Malcolm groaned. He had completely forgotten what the date was, there being very little sense of time passing out in space. And it wasn't like his birthday was much to look forward to, anyway. All of a sudden he was being clapped on the back; having his hand shook, people were grinning. Someone had put some music on. Probably Trip.

"Happy Birthday, Sir." It was Elanor. Malcolm smiled, forgetting for a moment his mounting embarrassment, concentrating rather on how lovely the young woman looked at that moment. Her auburn hair was down, for once, curling slightly 'round her face, her blue eyes reflecting perfectly the radiant smile on her lips.

Snap out of it! It's never going to happen, is it? Malcolm mentally chastised himself; furious at the way he turned into a love-sick teenager again whenever he got near to her.

"Thankyou." He returned her smile, albeit rather weakly.

"Here ya' go Malcolm." Trip had sauntered over, two foaming mugs of beer in his hands, one of which he handed to Malcolm. Where they'd got all this stuff Malcolm did not know. He could only hope they hadn't acquired it through... unsavoury means.

"You do know I am going to get you for this, don't you, Trip?" He muttered to his friend once the crowd had moved away, only half joking.

"Yeah, right, Malcolm." Trip grinned, a grin which made Malcolm extremely tempted to get out his wand and perform the most unpleasant jinx he could think of.

"Anyhow's, Malcolm, heard anythin' from the Council recently? About, y'know, him?" Trip's gaze was suddenly serious, his voice and expression grave. Malcolm frowned slightly, unsure of how to answer.

"Not recently, no." He paused, choosing his words carefully before proceeding. "I think... that he may be laying off a bit. Call it a sixth sense, if you will. But - that doesn't mean we can afford to become complacent." Trip nodded, wisely not pursuing the mystery with which Malcolm kept his sources of information in. With that, Trip moved away, leaving Malcolm alone to watch the party, mulling over his beer and his ever-increasing predicament.

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As soon as Malcolm stepped onto the bridge he knew something was wrong. The lights were low, and the tactical alert was flashing. He'd been called up from his quarters by the captain himself - never a good sign when it had only just turned midnight.

And there, spinning slowly on the view-screen, was a planet Malcolm was bloody sure hadn't been anywhere near in range the night before. The Dark Lord. The thought had only just flashed across his mind when he felt a searing pain in his arm - his tattoo was burning, it felt as though someone had stuck a knife deep into his flesh and was twisting for all their worth...

"Malcolm? Are you alright?" It was Archer. Quickly, calmly, he collected himself. It was not yet time for Archer to know. Not quite.

"I'm fine sir." And before anyone else could say another word, he hurried towards his station, relieving the poor, terrified kid who had been on night duty when they'd discovered the mysterious planet.

"What's the need for the Tactical Alert in this situation, sir? I mean, surely this is Science's problem?" Archer looked as though he was about to get angry for a moment, then he mellowed.

"We've detected a primitive weapon's silo down on the surface. It appears to be somewhat similar to those used in the Third World War - a nuclear reactor - and it's been pointed straight at us ever since we got within orbit. But we've been unable to locate any life down on the surface. We believe it may be automated."

Malcolm paused for a moment before replying, taking a quick look at the readout on his console. Archer was right - according to sensors, it was little more than a primitive weapons silo. But Archer didn't know the things which Malcolm did. Tentatively, he used the slightly blurred sixth sense which all wizards possess, to see whether or not there was any magic apart from that of his crewmates going on nearby.

And there was. The showdown would be today. Carefully, making sure that none of the crew, most of all the captain, did not see what he was doing, he reached into his breast pocket and tapped the tiny communications badge Hoshi had made up for every member of the group.

"If one of us has reason to believe that we are in danger, they simply have to tap their badge and it will alert the rest of the group." She had explained during one meeting. "When you feel this badge vibrating you are to make your way to this cargo bay as quickly as possible."

By "in danger" she meant if they thought the Dark Lord was near. But Hoshi, as usual, was having trouble adjusting to such new and frightening things, and could not bring herself to say those few, awful words. Within a few minutes, the entire group would be crowded into the cargo bay, awaiting his orders. He had to decide what to do, and fast. He needed to get some of his 'team' down on that planet...

"Sir." He spoke up, after a few moments of heavy silence. "I suggest that we take a team down to the surface to investigate the matter. Preferably crewmen who have had some experience with this type of weaponry." Archer nodded, not realising the true weight of what his tactical officer meant by 'this type of weaponry'.

Malcolm took this moment to glance over at Trip, who had been throwing him alarmed glances whenever he could. It was obvious that the "badge" had worked.

"I want you to get a team together, Malcolm. Four of your best people. Meet me, Trip, and Hoshi down in Launch Bay One in two hours time." Malcolm nodded, before standing up and heading towards the turbolift. He had a lot to do before those two hours were up.

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