Chapter Seven

"Sir? What's happening?" Elanor Lungbarrow was the first to speak when he entered the cargo bay.

"It's time." He answered simply, knowing that every single person in that room understood all too well what he meant. There was a collective intake of breath from the group. When he turned back to Elanor, her face was pale.

"What are we going to do?" Once again, the pure weight of command made his shoulder's sag and his heart plummet.

"I think..." He began, his voice hoarse. Every eye in the room was upon him, awaiting his decision. He was trembling, he realised, he was terrified. Failure would be tantamount to a death sentence. But screw your courage to the sticking-post and we'll not fail! An old line from Macbeth, the Shakespeare play he had studied many years ago whilst at secondary school, came back at him like a ton of bricks. At the time he'd found it boring, even pointless. Now he was hanging on to the encouragement in Shakespeare's words like a drowning man to his rescuer.

A sudden confidence coursed through him, and he continued, his voice strong and unflinching.

"I believe that the dark Lord may have taken up "residence" on the planet we are currently orbiting. There are signs of Dark magic about. The captain believes this to simply be a matter for security to deal with. I can take four people - I want the rest of you to follow, any way you can. You must be prepared to use force against your crewmates to get to the surface. Hijack the shuttlepods, commandeer the transporter, Apparate - I don't care. Just get down there as fast as possible. Any questions?" The group was stunned momentarily into silence, before Elanor took a deep breath and stepped closer towards him.

"Which four people will you be taking, sir?" He looked into her eyes for a long moment. In a perfect world, he would have chosen Elanor as one of the four, straight off. She was one of the best in their group - and she was one of the few who had had no qualms about learning the Unforgivable Curses. He knew he could trust her.

But there was no way he could explain to the captain why he had chosen her. She was one of the lowest ranks on the ship, a worker in the Quartermaster's store, the girl who sorted through the dirty uniforms. Starfleet had no idea how skilled she was.

"There are four members here, I believe, who are members of the security team. They are my four." He watched as those four people stepped forward, sheet-white and terrified.

"I want you to Apparate down as soon as you can, Elanor. Do you think you can do that?" She held his gaze once again, her grey eyes stony and determined.

"I can try sir."

888

The atmosphere in the shuttlepod was cold and grim. Archer was surveying the five security men one the bench at the back of the shuttlepod with confusion. He had no idea why they were so worried about such a "simple" away mission. Malcolm laughed to himself. Typical muggle. Except they weren't allowed to call them that any more, were they? Malcolm remembered distantly. The Council said it was "politically incorrect". Malcolm tried to keep his mind off the fast-approaching ordeal he would soon have to endure with trivial thoughts such as those.

"We're here." Trip's voice broke the stony silence, and Malcolm gave him a small nod of encouragement. The captain made for the hatch, but Malcolm got there first. Opening the shuttlepod hatch to the harsh alien air, he headed out unhesitatingly into danger, and, quite possibly, death.

888

The air was heavy with the scent of fear. At least, that's what it seemed like to Malcolm. The men beside him reeked of it. Even Trip was looking pale. Archer, of course, was still confused. Hoshi was looking determinedly at her feet, taking deep, calming breaths. Except it didn't seem to be calming her down much. Strange...

Malcolm was as calm as anything even though, by rights, he should have been terrified.

Then again, perhaps it wasn't that strange that he wasn't worried. He, after all, was the one person among them with the power and knowledge to stop the Dark Lord once and for all.

They were getting closer to the source of the magical anomaly, Malcolm could sense it. Even though all his scanner was telling him was that they were getting closer to the mysterious "weapons silo". It was night time where they were, and so foggy you could barely see three feet in front of your face. It was cold, too. The harsh wind bit at his exposed skin like knives. His wand was in his top pocket, and his hand was hovering near it, ready to get it out at any sign of magical danger.

"So. You have returned." Malcolm jumped, and stared wildly around.

"Malcolm? What's wrong?" It was Archer. Malcolm looked at him, hoping against hope that he hadn't heard what he thought he just had.

"Did you - did you hear that voice?" The entire group, including Hoshi, looked at him quizzically.

"All I can hear is the wind." Hoshi stated, raising her eyes from the ground long enough to meet his gaze. Malcolm took a deep breath, and walked on, his sense pricked for any sign of anything out of the ordinary.

"Your are coming to close. Traitor." That voice again. It was the Dark Lord, speaking to Malcolm in a language even Hoshi could not understand. He was trying to distract Malcolm, trying to push him off balance enough to have an opening through which to attack.

"You fool, Reed. You would have been the perfect apprentice. The perfect Dark Wizard." He would not listen to that voice, he would be strong! Malcolm fought with himself, with his fears, with the temptation within him which screamed at him to go to the Dark Lord as his servant, to beg for his forgiveness like a creeping rat.

And then they found themselves surrounded.

"You know, I would have expected more of you, Reed." A silky voice spoke from the circle, and a tall figure stepped forward. The figure lowered its hood and stepped into the moonlight, staring at Malcolm. Malcolm raised its head and met the glowing green eyes with defiance.

888

TBC.

A/N: So, have you figured out who the "Dark Lord" is yet? evil grin Bye for now!

HoVis