Title: Thursdays's Child
Author: Sita Z
Rating: T
AN: Thanks to all of you who reviewed Chapter 3!
JadziaKathryn (thank you! there are a lot more chapters to come, and you'll get to know in more detail about all of those things), Rinne (thank you!), Gabi (und was machst du morgens viertel vor sieben schon im Internet, hmmm ;-)? Tja, wie geht's jetzt weiter... schau ma mal!), JennMel (thanks, he was definitely fun to write ;-)!), The Libran Iniquity (Yeah, one day I'll join the Evil Slash Writers... ;-) ), Exploded Pen ("annoyed" is exactly how he feels, I guess), stage manager (don't worry, the story isn't going to stop for quite a while yet), RoaringMice (there'll definitely be more about that!), The One Forgotten (thank you! please keep telling me what you think!), Virgo (thanks! There'll be more about Mal's and Trip's past later on), firebirdgirl (sorry about the cliffie! Happy reading ;-)!)
----------------------------------
Chapter 4
When Malcolm returned two and a half hours later, Sev and his children were gone. Malcolm wasn't really surprised; after all, he had practically offered the man the chance to run away. Still, finding the place empty was more of a shock than he would have expected. Guilt was also part of it; of course, he had only acted with the best intentions when he had left the decision to Sev. On the other hand, the man wasn't used to deciding for himself; he was used to receiving orders and doing what he was told.
Malcolm quickly dismissed the thought. Only because the man was a slave (Malcolm didn't like to think of him in that way, but that was what he was) didn't mean he couldn't think for himself. He had made his decision, and Malcolm had to accept it. Humans did not believe that one person could own another and force them to go somewhere they didn't want to go. His own feelings of responsibility had nothing to do with it. Sev was a grown man and had the right to decide for himself.
Firmly telling himself these things, Malcolm gripped handle of his bag harder and continued towards the forest.
I'm not going to search for him, he decided. There's no reason why he should have left, except that he wanted to get away. I-
Malcolm stopped short. A few meters ahead, on the ground next to where the underbrush began, lay Sara's magazine. The little girl had hardly ever laid it aside ever since she had found it back in their hotel room, keeping it next to her plate at breakfast and clutching it as if it were her most precious possession. Now, however, it lay crumpled in the grass, and when Malcolm picked it up he saw a muddy smear across the open page. A smear that looked like a boot print.
Malcolm was still trying to digest the implications of his find when he heard someone scream. It was a shrill, piercing sound, and loud enough to startle Malcolm into action. He dropped the magazine and his bag, pulled out his weapon and began to jog in the direction from where the sound had come. It had been a child screaming, no doubt about that, and Malcolm was sure that it had been Sara's voice.
The sound continued, now changing into a loud, desperate sobbing. Malcolm picked up his pace. The voice did belong to Sara, and now he could also hear what she was saying.
"Let him go! Please, don't do that! Please!"
A man laughed as if in response and said something in a harsh voice. A moment later Sara screamed again, and Malcolm gripped the handle of his weapon harder.
After about fifty meters, the edge of the forest gave way to a clearing surrounded by large bushes. Branches whipped into his face as he ran through the thicket, but Malcolm didn't really notice. The screaming had turned into sobbing again, and when he finally stepped into the open, Malcolm stopped dead in his tracks at the scene unfolding in front of his eyes.
A large, streamlined craft stood a few meters away from the edge of the forest, and he recognized the symbol on its side as the emblem of the Kareedian police. Next to it he saw three uniformed men, one of them holding a fourth man whose arms he had brutally twisted onto his back. When the tallest of the three raised a hand to strike him, Malcolm saw that the captive was Sev. His face was covered with blood, and the way he hung in the police officers' grip told Malcolm that this had been going on for quite a while.
"NO!" Before the man could bring his fist down on Sev's face, Sara, her face tearstained and twisted, hurled herself at the Kareedian and began to pummel him with her small fists. "Leave him alone!"
The men laughed and the officer who had been about to punch Sev in the face stepped back, giving the girl a savage kick in the stomach that sent her sprawling on the ground.
"Shut up, brat!"
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
At the sound of Malcolm's voice, the three officers turned around. Sara, scrambling back to her feet, met his eyes in a silent plea of help. Sammy seemed too terrified to make a sound, clinging to his sister while tears ran down his cheeks.
"Who are you?" the officer in charge demanded to know, laying a hand on his weapon holster.
Malcolm hesitated, then lowered his own weapon and tucked it away. He wasn't going to provoke a gunfight when the children were in shooting range of the police.
"I am K'tar Sarn'ee, of Senator V'Lin's personal guard," he said haughtily, the way the Senator's high-ranking officers had talked to their subordinates. "Do you want to see my ID?"
The man's gaze traveled over his uniform, then back up to his face. "No, K'tar. That's alright. Is there something we can do for you?"
"Yes." Malcolm looked at Sev who was still hanging in the Kareedian's grip. "Release this man. Now."
The officer hesitated. "Does he belong to you, sir?"
"Yes, he does." Malcolm let impatience creep into his voice. "Are you going to let him go or not?"
The Kareedian half-turned his head, and the man who was holding Sev gave him a hard push that sent him to his knees. The officer in charge roughly pulled him back to his feet, holding his left arm in a vise grip as he led him over to Malcolm.
Malcolm tried not to let the shock show on his face when he saw just how badly the Kareedians had beaten him up. Both of Sev's eyes were swollen shut, and his lip was split in several places, oozing blood that trickled down his chin. Still, he met Malcolm's eyes, as if trying to tell him something.
"He said that he's run away," the officer said. "Is that true?"
Malcolm stared at Sev, and his heart sank when he realized what this was all about. The man was trying to protect him. If he had told them the truth about the "secret organization", then Malcolm would have come back to find a squad of policemen waiting to take him away - or, more likely, force him to bring them to the meeting point so they could arrest Archer as well. And then... Malcolm didn't even want to think about it. He swallowed, and forced himself to speak in an even tone of voice.
"Yes, that's true." Knowing what the man was going to ask next, Malcolm continued. "We're staying at a hotel in town, and I realized only this morning that he was gone."
The officer frowned. "And you didn't call the police right away?"
"No." Malcolm tried to sound as if he regretted that now. "I thought I could take care of this myself. I never thought he would get that far with the children in tow."
"So you came all the way from town to search for him?"
"Well, I had no choice." Malcolm sighed theatrically. "I returned my flitter yesterday, and we were waiting for a friend to pick us up at the hotel."
It turned out that half-truths were indeed the best lies. The officer accepted his story without question (although Malcolm suspected that it was mostly the rank symbol on his uniform that prevented the man from inquiring further into the matter), and let go of Sev's arm.
"You're lucky we found him when we did. There've been some incidents with poachers, and we patrol the area from time to time, just to be sure."
Malcolm bit down hard on his tongue to stop a cynical remark from slipping out. "Yes, I guess I am. Thank you, officer."
The man seemed to have noticed Malcolm's less-than-enthusiastic tone. "I'm sorry we had to use somewhat... drastic measures, but you know how stubborn they can be. He wouldn't tell us anything."
Malcolm met Sev's eyes. This man had very likely saved his life by refusing to tell these men the truth.
Why would you do such a thing, Malcolm asked silently. Why let them hurt you to save someone you hardly know?
But Sev only lowered his eyes, raising a hand to wipe the blood off his chin. The police officer mistook Malcolm's look for anger, and gave Sev a smack up the side of the head.
"If I was you, I'd see to it that he doesn't pull another stunt like that. Whip him, then lock him up for a few days, something like that. That'd teach him to run away."
Well, how about that. Or how about I knock your teeth down your throat so you can spend the next few days picking them out of your shit.
Malcolm nodded curtly. "We'll see."
The Kareedian seemed to realize that Malcolm wasn't too interested in his opinion on the matter, and waved at his two subordinates.
"Let's go." Before he climbed into the flitter, he looked back at Malcolm. "Want a lift, sir? We could take you back to the city if you like."
For a brief, frantic moment Malcolm could think of no excuse to refuse the offer - the idea of flying back to the city only to start the long march all over again, this time with the children in tow, was more than frustrating. Then, however, remembering the man's earlier remarks, he shook his head.
"That's alright, thank you, officer." He pretended to shoot Sev a spiteful look. "He managed to get that far on foot, so he can bloody well walk all the way back as well."
The officer grinned a little and nodded, probably thinking that this offworlder had a rather strange way of punishing his slave. Still, he made no objection, and that was all Malcolm cared about.
"Suit yourself. Good luck, sir."
The shuttle's boosters started and a moment later the streamlined craft lifted off the ground, flew a wide arc and sped off in direction of the city. Malcolm noticed that his hands were clenched to fists, and he deliberately forced them open, letting out a deep breath. That one had been too close.
"Daddy!" At the sound of Sammy's voice, Malcolm turned around. The little boy hurled himself at his father and wrapped his arms around Sev's legs, the silent tears of before turning into loud sobs. "D- Daddy, are they - are they gonna come b-back?"
"Hey, it's okay." Sev had visible trouble speaking, but all the same, he crouched down and took the frightened child in his arms. "They're not going to come back, don't worry, partner. You did great."
Unlike her brother, Sara did not try to hug her father. Very carefully, she touched his arm, her lower lip trembling as she spoke. "Daddy, are you alright? Are you hurt?"
Sev reached out and pulled the girl close. "I'm okay, honey. Don't worry." He glanced at her midsection, and Malcolm noticed the worry in his eyes. "Does your stomach hurt?"
The girl shook her head, managing a shaky smile. "I'm okay," she echoed her father's words. Sev wasn't so easily convinced, and carefully lifted Sara's shirt to take a look himself. Malcolm could see a bruise forming where the Kareedian had kicked the girl. Sev's brows drew together at the sight, and he muttered a few angry words in Kareedian that the translator didn't pick up.
Sammy looked up at his father. "That's not a nice word, Daddy. It's not polite."
His serious tone made both adults smile.
"There's a medscanner in my bag," Malcolm offered almost tentatively - he felt strangely reluctant to join the conversation, as if he were intruding into the family's private sphere. Sev met his eyes, and again, Malcolm startled at the mass of bruises the other man's face now represented.
"Thank you, sir. I'd like to check if everything's okay." His words were followed by another worried glance at Sara's stomach, and Malcolm knew that by "checking if everything was okay" Sev hadn't thought about his own injuries for one minute.
"Just a moment while I get it." Malcolm didn't wait for Sara or Sev to protest (I can do that, sir), and trotted off to where he'd dropped the bag when he had first heard the screams. He also picked up the magazine, straightening the pages as well as he could - maybe getting her "book" back would help the girl forget about the incident. Malcolm quickly dismissed the thought; of course she wouldn't forget. Sara had been frightened and furious, but she hadn't exactly been shocked. No, this hadn't been the first time Sara was a witness to violence, and maybe not even the first time she had been a witness to violence directed towards her father. Or herself. And she didn't forget; Malcolm saw it in her eyes every time she looked at him with that guarded, wary expression on her face. Her eyes spoke of a profound distrust of the world in general and people in particular, and Malcolm had seen that expression mirrored on her father's face on more than one occasion. And especially last night, when he had misinterpreted Malcolm's decision to have them sleep in the same room.
What did they do to you, Malcolm wondered. He wasn't a particularly trusting person himself, but this was more than being careful and reserved around people. In a way, Sev and his daughter reminded him of stray dogs that have been kicked a few times too often.
And still, the other man had done all this just to protect Malcolm. He had realized, of course, that this business of "meeting a colleague in a secret place" was a lot more dangerous than Malcolm let on, and he had kept his silence, even when the Kareedians had beaten him halfway to unconsciousness. But why? Just to give Malcolm a reason to be grateful, to make sure he was in his new master's good graces? Somehow, Malcolm didn't think so. All the time, Sev had never once done anything to insinuate himself into Malcolm's favor. And remembering the flash of rage in Sev's eyes when the Kareedian had kicked his daughter, Malcolm thought that anyone who tried to lay a hand on Sara and Sammy would learn the hard way that Sev wasn't as quiet and obedient as he might seem. "Protective" seemed more to the point.
When Malcolm came back to the clearing, both children were still sitting close to their father, although Sara was very careful not to touch any part of his body that had been hurt during the beating. Sammy's eyes were drooping; the shock and his crying seemed to have left him exhausted enough to go right to sleep.
Malcolm knelt down next to them, pulling out the small medkit that was part of the standard equipment. Sev watched him anxiously as he ran the scanner over Sara's midsection.
"Is she okay, sir?"
Malcolm nodded. "Everything's alright. There's going to be quite a huge bruise, but other than that she should be okay."
Sev's face relaxed in obvious relief, then turned into a frown when Malcolm raised the scanner once again.
"I'm fine, sir."
"Well, I wouldn't call it "fine"," Malcolm said dryly. "But it seems like they didn't break anything."
He rummaged through the medkit, and dug up a phial with an antiseptic solution and a hypospray.
"I'm going to give you some painkiller, then we can take care of your face," he said, holding up the hypo to read the label. Sev gave him the by now familiar are-you-serious look.
"Sir?"
Instead of giving an answer, Malcolm held the hypospray against Sev's neck and watched the man's face as the painkiller emptied itself into his bloodstream.
"Better?"
Sev nodded slowly, and involuntarily touched the place where the hypo had touched his skin. "Yes," he said, and Malcolm could see that he was surprised and confused at the same time. Surprised that a simple injection could make the pain go away, and confused why anyone should bother to waste such medication on him. Malcolm pretended not to have noticed, and wet a handkerchief with some of the antiseptic solution.
"Now hold still while I clean the blood off your face."
Sev was clearly feeling uncomfortable, but he did as he was told. Carefully, Malcolm began to dab the blood off, aware of Sara's eyes on him as he did so. The girl seemed to realize what he was doing and winced in sympathy every time he touched an open cut. Like her father, she didn't seem to be familiar with analgesics and had no idea that you could actually numb a person's pain so they didn't feel it when their wounds were cleaned.
When he was done, the handkerchief was stained with blood and soaked with antiseptic solution. Malcolm folded it up and tucked it into a plastic bag, mindful not to leave any suspicious waste behind. Sev had never looked at him while Malcolm cleaned the wounds, and seemed relieved when the procedure was over. Not because of the pain, the analgesic should have taken care of that; he didn't seem to be comfortable with the entire idea of Malcolm tending to his injuries.
"Daddy?" Sara asked quietly, reaching out and taking her father's hand. "Daddy, are you really okay?"
Sev smiled at her, but the effect was ruined when his split lip started to bleed again. "Really, honey. That - painkiller, it helped a lot."
Sara did not answer his smile; instead she took the handkerchief out of the bag and offered it to Sev so he could wipe off the blood. "Daddy, why did you lie to them? Why did you say that we ran away when we didn't?"
She didn't say anything to Malcolm, but he could read the silent accusation in her eyes. And why didn't you tell them the truth?
"I had to, honey," Sev said, carefully folding up the handkerchief after he'd dabbed off the blood. "I couldn't tell them the real reason why we are here, and I had to tell them something."
"But why?" Sara wanted to know. "Why couldn't you tell them?"
Sev hesitated briefly before he spoke. "It... it would have been too dangerous."
"That's right," Malcolm added quietly. "Your father is a very brave man, Sara. He saved my life when he lied to the police."
And I still have no idea why he did it.
Sara frowned, but seemed to accept that neither of the adults was going to explain in more detail what was going on. She looked up at Malcolm.
"You're not..." She trailed off, lowering her eyes.
She's afraid of me, Malcolm thought. And maybe even more so since I didn't tell the truth about Sev running away.
He sat down in the grass next to the girl. "What?" he asked gently.
Sara's voice was very quiet, and he had to strain his ears to understand her. "You're not going to do any of the things the man told you, are you, sir?"
At first, Malcolm had no idea what she was talking about, but then he remembered what the Kareedian had said about "teaching" Sev a lesson. And his own answer. We'll see.
"Sara," he said, but the girl wouldn't meet his eyes. "Sara, please look at me."
Hesitantly, she raised her eyes, and Malcolm continued. "Sara, I would never do any of the things that..." (bloody bastard) "...that man was talking about. I had to lie to him about it, so he wouldn't get suspicious..."
Sara looked at her father, and Sev explained, "So he wouldn't realize that he was being lied to."
"Right." Malcolm nodded. "But I didn't mean it. I would never hurt your father, or you, or Sammy." He paused, waiting for her reaction.
Sara nodded slowly. "You lied to him so he wouldn't notice that you're different."
Malcolm was surprised how astute her observation was - basically, that was what he had been doing ever since he had arrived on Kareedia. "Yes, I believe you could put it that way."
Remembering something, he leaned forward and reached for his bag. "I've got something for you." He held out the magazine to her. "Here. It got a little dirty, but most of the pictures should still be okay."
For the first time ever, the girl actually smiled at him. "Thank you, sir."
Malcolm grinned back. "You're welcome."
A moment later, Sara was absorbed in the art of cooking (or, since she couldn't read, in the flashy pictures that came with the recipes), and Malcolm turned to Sev who was shifting a sleeping Sammy on his lap.
"I..." Malcolm hesitated, not sure how to begin. "I want to thank you. I shouldn't have left you behind, and it's my fault that they found you. I guess... I guess I owe you my life." He remembered something, and smiled. "Seems like it's your turn to pick a gift."
Sev smiled faintly in response, and shook his head. "The law doesn't apply to slaves, sir. It's their duty to serve and protect."
But what you did went far beyond duty. For a moment, Malcolm wanted to tell Sev that he was free, that it had all been another act to protect him and the children. But he bit down on his lips before he could say anything. His good intentions had gone awry a few times too often, the highlight being his decision to leave Sev and the children alone in the wilderness. Malcolm wasn't going to take any more chances.
"Be that as it may, I still owe you one."
He waited for Sev to say something, to explain why he had done it, but all he got was silence. Reluctantly, Malcolm decided to drop the subject for now.
"I hate to rush things, but we should get going as soon as we can. They're waiting for me, and - hey, take it easy."
Sev, who had been about to get to his feet, stopped in his tracks. "Sir?"
"We don't have to leave right now. Take your time. I'm sure you and the children could use a break." Malcolm sighed inwardly. Sev still interpreted every statement as an order, as if the idea that Malcolm could simply be having a conversation with him had never crossed his mind. For some reason, Malcolm was saddened by the thought.
They rested for another half an hour, then Sammy woke up again and announced that he needed to use the bathroom. He seemed to be back to his usual energetic self, and had apparently decided, in the subconscious way in which small children dealt with these things, that the men who had hurt his dad were only part of a bad dream that was best forgotten about.
After Sammy and Sev had returned, Malcolm asked the children if they were up to a little walk in the woods, and their enthusiastic nods reassured him that both of them had rested enough. It was more than could be said of their father, who seemed rather dazed by the strong dose of painkiller Malcolm had given him. Still, they couldn't afford to wait any longer. Malcolm estimated that it was going to take them about three hours to reach the meeting point, and time was running short.
The first hundred meters of ground were covered by a thick layer of underbrush, and more than once they had to take the long way in order to avoid thick patches of thorny brushwood. Sara and Sammy enjoyed the walk, running ahead or stopping to examine a particularly interesting weed or bug they had spotted somewhere between the leaves that carpeted the ground. Sammy collected about a dozen twigs and branches he insisted on taking along, and Malcolm had to smother a smile when Sev drew the line at a rotting tree stump the boy had dragged out from under one of the bushes.
They made only slow headway and Malcolm was already beginning to worry about the time when the underbrush suddenly gave way to smooth forest ground. There was enough space between the trees to walk without having to worry about hidden roots, and the thick blanket of the tree tops above allowed only few sunbeams to reach the moss-covered ground. The green twilight interrupted by the occasional bright patch of sunshine created a quiet, ghostly atmosphere, and Malcolm saw the children creep closer to their father, Sammy abandoning part of his stick collection as he reached up to take Sev's hand.
They continued through the forest for another hour and a half, and Malcolm continued to decline both Sara's and Sev's occasional offers to take his bag. He had insisted on carrying it himself when they had started their walk, only half-joking when he reminded them that he, after all, was the only one who had not come away with any bruises from their little adventure with the police. After an hour of changing it from one hand into the other he made a mental note to bring a backpack next time.
Eventually, of course, the forest lost its novelty and the children started to show first signs of exhaustion. Sara soldiered on without a word of complaint, but Malcolm saw by the way she dragged her feet that the girl was tired. Sammy kept complaining for about twenty minutes, then sat down on the ground, hugged what was left of his stick collection and refused to get up again.
"Sammy, we can't stay here," his father explained patiently, crouching down next to the boy as he talked. "I know you're tired, partner, but right now we can't take a break."
"I can't move my feet anymore, Daddy," the boy said earnestly, raising one bare foot off the ground and dropping it back down as if to demonstrate. "See? I think they're broken."
"Your feet are not broken, Sammy," Sev said with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "And it looks like you can move them just fine."
Sammy, realizing his mistake, changed his strategy. "But they feel like they are broken. I don't think I can walk on them anymore. You have to carry me, Daddy."
Sev gave in. "Alright. Come on, pumpkin."
Noticing the visible exhaustion on the man's bruised face, Malcolm came to a decision. He knew that this was certainly not something a Kareedian would do, but he didn't care. He had already more or less abandoned the rules he had tried to play by in the beginning, and it really made no difference anymore.
"How about I carry you?" he suggested, looking at Sammy. "A big lad like you, I bet you're quite heavy, and I think your Daddy could use a break."
"Sir...", Sev began, looking shocked, but Malcolm shook his head.
"That's alright."
After some serious consideration of the matter, Sammy nodded. "Okay, you can carry me. Do I have to leave my sticks behind?"
Deciding that a few dry branches weren't going to break the camel's back, Malcolm shook his head again. "No, that's fine. Just try not to take out my eyes, okay?"
Sammy grinned. "I won't."
Before Sev could protest, Malcolm lifted the boy up and found that he weighed even less than he had expected. Sammy wrapped one arm around his neck, using the other hand to hold on to his sticks.
"You're smaller than Daddy," he observed, and Malcolm smiled.
"That's right."
"Sir, you don't have to do this," Sev said quietly, lifting up the bag since Malcolm literally had his hands full. Malcolm met his eyes, and noticed that Sara was watching them with an anxious expression on her face.
"I know," he said. "But I feel it's the least I can do, after what you did for me."
Sev lowered his eyes. "Sir, I only did what..."
Malcolm shook his head. "No. You didn't only do what was your duty as... what you felt you had to do. If you had told them the truth, I would have been taken away to jail. They'd have executed me, most likely. I owe you my life."
"Sir." Sev spoke quietly, but Malcolm had no trouble understanding him. "Do you know what happens to slaves if their master goes to jail?"
Malcolm shook his head.
"They're sold at a public auction. And..."
He didn't continue, his eyes coming to rest on Sara and Sammy. Malcolm felt like he had been punched in the guts. Involuntarily, he tightened his grip on the little boy in his arms and realized for the first time how it must be for Sev, to be always afraid for his children, to be at the mercy of strangers who had the power to separate his family at a moment's whim.
"I'm sorry," he said, though he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for. He had been careless and stupid to leave them behind, but there was more to it. He, Malcolm Reed, was one of those strangers Sev had to fear. Malcolm found that for the first time he couldn't bring himself to look at the man.
"It's not your fault, sir," Sev said almost gently. "I believe you that you wouldn't hurt us. I'm glad we can stay with you."
No, Malcolm thought, the realization leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. You're not glad you can stay with me. You're desperately afraid of what would happen if they took you away from me.
In a way, Sev's words left a hollow feeling in his chest. He had been thinking that what Sev had done was a thing friends did for one another, but now Malcolm realized how utterly ridiculous such an idea was. Sev had been protecting his children, and he was not - could not - be Malcolm's friend. Not when Malcolm could come to him one day and say "Oh, by the way, I've decided that I really need that money... and between the two of us, Sev old chum, looking after one of those little rug rats gives you more than enough to do, doesn't it?"
A bitter smile tugged at Malcolm's lips and he turned away, missing the look in Sev's eyes as he did so.
"Well, we'd better get going," he said, and hoped that his voice wasn't going to give any of his feelings away. Sev wouldn't understand, and Malcolm knew he had no right to be feeling that way. He didn't even know why all of this had become so important to him.
They continued further into the forest, Malcolm carrying Sammy and checking his scanner from time to time to ascertain that they were still walking in the right direction. It wasn't long until Sammy fell asleep with his head resting on Malcolm's shoulder, the rest of his stick collection slipping out of his hands and dropping unnoticed to the ground. More than an hour passed in silence until Sara asked timidly if they could take a short break. Malcolm agreed, and they sat down under one of the huge gray trees, eating crumbly Kareedian cookies and drinking the rest of the water that Malcolm had bought when he had returned the flitter.
Sammy woke up and demanded his share of the cookies soon enough, and Malcolm had just opened his mouth to suggest that they get going again when he heard steps approaching. At first, he thought it was only the rustling of the leaves, but then he heard a twig break and knew that someone was coming.
"Stay right here!"
He ignored the surprised looks he was getting and drew his weapon. If it was the police again... Slowly, Malcolm approached the direction from where the sounds came, taking cover behind a patch of bushes. Then, when the steps had almost reached his position, he jumped into the open.
"Malcolm!"
Malcolm stared, blinked, stared again - and then lowered his weapon when he realized that it was aimed right at his superior, Commander Jonathan Archer.
TBC...
Please let me know what you think!