Title: Thursday's Child
Author: Sita Z
Rating: T
AN: Thank you for reviewing!
Rinne (I thought so ;-) ), Gabi (hm, nee, hat er nicht... hatte erstmal andere Sachen zu tun ;-) ), JadziaKathryn (I'm not so sure about Porthos, sorry, but I can promise that you'll see more of Sammy yet), volley (thank you... yes, now that you mention it, Soval in a Starfleet jump suit does make a strange picture -g-...), Emiliana Keladry (no problem, thanks for reviewing!), Tata (yes, I admit I like the idea of T'Pol bossing Soval around ;-)... please keep telling me what you think!), Luna (you're right... it's going to take a while for him to understand just how much has changed in his life), The Libran Iniquity (Genau, etwas anders... vielleicht ein bißchen ernster, oder... na, das sehen wir dann. You're right, it's going to take some time for Mal and Sev to work this out between them - and, of, course, those situations you mentioned ;-)...), MuseUrania (thank you... yes, I guess that's the interesting thing about an AU, changing the characters' relationships), Lei Fon (thanks, and I promise I'll keep updating regularly), Parisfan (yes, several of the upcoming chapters are going to deal with Sev's past in more detail), stage manager (thanks! A lot of people don't usually like AU, so I'm glad you all seem to enjoy this story), BananaTrip (I guess there's a fair chance you'll be seeing him there ;-) ), JennMel (thank you ;-)!), firebirdgirl (thank you for the e-mail! No, I don't think Soval would be too happy about having Shran on Enterprise... hypothetically, since Shran won't make an appearance in this story, I'm afraid), Maraschino (thanks, I'm glad you like it :-)!)
Please keep telling me what you think!
-----------------------------------------------
Chapter 7
When Malcolm woke up the next morning, it took him a few seconds to realize that he was in his quarters on Enterprise, not back in his room at the Senator's palace with K'tar "Snores Like A Dinosaur" Cor'Sin sawing wood in the bunk across the room. As a K'tar, he had been granted the privilege of sharing with only one of his colleagues, but after a few nights Malcolm would have preferred to sleep in a dorm together with nine other men instead of bunking down with the Amazing Living Chainsaw.
Malcolm had never been in the habit of staying in bed "just a few more minutes", but now he rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling, relishing the silence. His legs were a little stiff from yesterday's long hike through the woods, and he made a mental note to pay a visit to the gym tonight. Maybe Sev would want to come, too.
Sev. Remembering their conversation in the corridor, Malcolm wondered if he was being rash, thinking of the man as his friend. True, Sev had finally given up the deferential "sir", but calling someone by his first name didn't mean you were friends with him. Then again, Malcolm wouldn't really know; he could count on one hand the people he had called "friends" in his life, and with some of them he wasn't sure if "acquaintance" might not be a better term to describe them. Back at the Vulcan boarding school, there had been few other humans, and none of them had been interested in making friends with the small, nine-year-old kid who had skipped two terms and still had no trouble keeping up with his eleven-year-old fellow students. Malcolm had befriended one of the Vulcans, a boy called Selek, but most of the others were too focused on their schooling to concentrate on anything but their study work. Still, Malcolm preferred the quiet atmosphere of the school to the foster home where the other kids had called him "Weedy Reedy", and had teased him because no one ever came on Visiting Day to take him out for a day at the park or the movies. There had been only one time when his father had come to see him, shortly before Malcolm left for boarding school. He remembered how nervous he had been when the stranger he hadn't seen since he was four had stood in front of him, smiling hesitantly and shaking Malcolm's hand as if he were a grown-up. Even the eight-year-old Malcolm had noticed the symptoms of a chronic alcoholic: the trembling of the hands, the bags under the eyes, the premature wrinkles. He knew Stuart Reed was on probationary leave from the rehabilitation clinic; that was what Mark, his care worker, had told him. Malcolm didn't know what "probationary" meant and had only a vague idea what a rehabilitation clinic was, but he realized that his father wasn't here to take him home.
They had gone to the small cafe across the street where the older kids went to hang out and spend their pocket money. They had sipped their drinks, Stuart his caffeine-free coffee and Malcolm his coke, and Stuart had told him that Mark had sent him a letter about Malcolm winning the scholarship.
"I was so proud when I read you were going to that Vulcan school," he had said. "So proud. I wish your mother could have seen that letter."
Then he had cried a little, wiping his face with a paper napkin, and Malcolm had stared down at his hands, not knowing how to deal with the grief of an adult he hardly knew.
A few years later, Malcolm had been called to the headmaster's office to be told that his father was dead; he had killed himself with an overdose of sleeping pills on another one of his probationary leaves. The Vulcan headmaster had commended Malcolm's emotional control when he received the news, but the truth was that Malcolm had no idea how to deal with the feelings that his father's death evoked in him. He should have grieved for him, he supposed, but how did you grieve for someone you didn't know? He had cried a little that night, mostly out of confusion, and after that had "moved on", working even harder for he knew he could only keep the scholarship if he obtained full marks in all subjects.
The boarding school was located near the Vulcan embassy in San Francisco, not far away from the Starfleet Academy, and when Malcolm was in his final year one of the instructors visited his class to inform the students about the requirements for the Starfleet entrance exam. None of his Vulcan fellow students were too interested (like Selek, most of them were going to return to Vulcan after they had finished the first stage of their schooling), but Malcolm listened with rapt attention as Captain Forrest told them what the newly founded organization was all about. He took the entrance test only a few weeks after his final exams, and passed at first try. In his cadet years, Malcolm discovered his "passion for weapons" (as some people called it), and spent hours in the library, studying the different kinds of alien weapons that were listed in the Vulcan database. The training was very hard and Malcolm liked to keep to himself in the scarce spare time he had; after all those years at a Vulcan school he wasn't very experienced in dealing with other humans.
His first assignment, again, was on a Vulcan ship, the T'Ler, and Malcolm found he preferred his job in the Armory to everything else, despite the fact that in the Vulcan philosophy violence and destruction was regarded as the source of all evil. But Malcolm felt that his job was more about protecting people than anything else, and that was something he knew he could do. He might not be very good at interacting with people, but when it came to protecting them, he was better than the rest.
When Forrest had contacted him about the job on Enterprise, Malcolm had been proud - proud enough to agree to a transfer he had never really wanted. He was content on the T'Ler, had established his routine in the familiar Vulcan environment, and he didn't want to build up a new one on a ship where half of the crew was human and would undoubtedly label him the uptight, arrogant Brit who avoided people and sometimes acted more Vulcan than human. His worst fears about Enterprise were confirmed when he came aboard only to be greeted with the words "I always thought an Armory officer would be one of those hulking Americans with a crew cut and a face like a bulldog. But I guess a small Brit will do as well."
The person who had said these words, a slender Asian woman with a sarcastic glint in her eyes, turned out to be the one who was supposed to show him around the ship. Malcolm was still smarting from her initial remark when she concluded her tour with the words "I expect it's going to be fun, working with you. I like guys who look like they laugh only once every seven years."
Malcolm, an experienced fighter, knew a challenge when he saw one and realized he had found a new focus for his ambitions - having the last word in a conversation with Enterprise's smart-mouthed communications officer. Soon the Reed-Sato Wars had become famous among the human part of the crew and strangely enough, Malcolm found that his ongoing verbal repartee with Hoshi Sato helped him adjust to the new environment a lot better than he would have expected. Commander Archer actually became his friend, and when Mike died Malcolm discovered that sometimes protecting people from others wasn't enough. Sometimes you had to protect them from themselves as well.
Malcolm found that he had reached sort of equilibrium aboard Enterprise; Captain T'Pol appreciated his work and the crew accepted him the way he was, both humans and Vulcans. He still didn't have many friends, but he wasn't alone either, and for Malcolm that was a new experience.
His mission on Kareedia had been a surprise to every member of the senior staff, and most of all to Malcolm himself. It didn't happen often that Starfleet personnel received secret orders from Joint Forces Command, and even Malcolm himself hadn't been told all the confidential details. But the mission had turned out to be a surprise in more than one aspect.
Still staring at the ceiling of his quarters, Malcolm remembered the "farewell ceremony" at the Senator's palace and how Sev had been forced to play the part of the goodbye present. Or, rather, the good riddance present. Suddenly, he felt a surge of irrational anger at the Senator who had probably thought of his idea as the crowning moment of all the diplomatic insults he had ever come up with. Malcolm wondered what Sev had thought when he had seen him for the first time. A human like himself, sucking up to the Senator, accepting him with the same forced grace like one would accept a trashy gift from a simpering relative. Then it came to him that Sev hadn't thought any of these things. He knew all Sev had thought of during that humiliating ceremony had been his children.
Malcolm sighed. He had never found himself in this position - trying to befriend someone who was even weirder, even more reticent than he himself. Someone who had to be drawn out of his shell instead of trying to draw Malcolm out of his. It seemed like an impossible thing to achieve, and yet, for some reason, Malcolm was determined to go through with it. So he wasn't very experienced in making friends, but Malcolm was willing to bet that Sev had even less experience in that respect.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Malcolm threw a perfunctory glance at his computer and noticed a blinking green light that indicated he had a message. As he pressed a button, a few lines in T'Pol's usual, straightforward style lit up on the screen.
'Lieutenant, please see to it that our guests are introduced to the facilities and provided with everything they require. Lieutenant Schwarz will be working the morning shift, so you are free to take all the time you need. I have arranged for Mr. Sev to meet with Ensign Sato and I at 0830 in the situation room; your presence would be appreciated. T'Pol'
Malcolm wasn't surprised that T'Pol had arranged for a meeting; of course, the Captain was just as interested as he was to find out more about the new arrivals.
I doubt that she'll get very far, though, Malcolm thought as he stepped into the shower. Whether intentionally or not, Sev had been more than closemouthed about his past.
Ten minutes later, Malcolm stood outside Enterprise's guest quarters, a little reluctant to press the door chime. It was only 0700, after all, and after yesterday's exhausting march Sev and his family had earned a good night's sleep. Then, however, the sound of muffled laughter came through the door and Malcolm realized that he needn't worry about waking anyone from their well-deserved slumber. Sammy had probably been up since 0600, at the very latest.
At the sound of the door signal the laughter stopped. There was a moment's silence, the sound of rustling and muffled directions ("Close the bathroom door, Sammy, you don't want to run around in front of people like that!"), then the door slid open.
"Good morning, sir." Sev smiled as he remembered something. "Malcolm. Please, come in."
Malcolm complied, answering the careful smile with a grin of his own. "Thank you. Sleep well?"
Sev nodded, and Malcolm saw that he was already fully dressed, looking like he had been up for several hours. The bruises on his face had faded somewhat overnight, and the pain lines around his mouth were gone. All in all, he looked a lot better than the day before.
Malcolm let his eyes travel over the room. Sara was sitting on one of the mattresses, her well-worn magazine open in her lap. She smiled when he met her eyes, and Malcolm smiled back.
Then he noticed the second mattress standing propped up against the far wall. Sev caught his look.
"They're not used to sleeping in two different beds," he said apologetically. "Back at the farm, we slept over the stables and they just curled up together at night."
"You had a room over the stables?" Malcolm asked, jumping at the opportunity. It was the first time Sev had voluntarily told him anything about his past. "Must have been quite cold in the winter season."
"It was alright," Sev said, shrugging. "But it wasn't really a room. It was more like a hayloft."
As he sometimes did, Sev had used the Kareedian word and Malcolm, not sure if he had heard the translation right, repeated: "The hayloft? You slept in the hayloft?"
"Yes." Sev didn't seem to think anything unusual about the fact. "When it got too cold, we sometimes moved to a small room behind the kitchen, but only because Miss Elin wouldn't tell the master. The farm workers weren't allowed in the house."
Malcolm was still digesting this information when the bathroom door burst open and Sammy came out. Or rather, jumped out. He was wearing his new sweater the wrong way around, and his curly hair was sticking up in all directions as if he had combed it with a rake.
"Look Daddy, I dressed and washed and got ready all by myself!"
Sev smiled and pulled the boy closer to turn his sweater the right way around. "That's great, partner. Now say good morning to Malcolm."
"Is that your name?" The boy looked up at Malcolm, who nodded.
"That's right, I'm Malcolm Reed."
"Good morning, Malcolmreed," Sammy said dutifully, then added: "Can we fly the shuttle again today?"
"The shuttles usually stay in the shuttle hangar when we're not using them to fly down to a planet," Malcolm said. "But I believe Commander Archer has a model space shuttle in his quarters. I'm sure he'd be happy to show it to you."
Sammy looked positively delighted at the idea. "Can we go and ask him now?"
Malcolm smiled. "How about some breakfast first? You didn't have any supper last night, and I'm sure you're starving."
Sara and Sammy both nodded decidedly, but Sev hesitated. "Are you sure we're not keeping you from your duties?"
Malcolm shook his head. "The Captain gave me the morning off so I could show you around. Oh, and she has arranged a meeting at 0830."
"A meeting?" Sev frowned, and the familiar expression of mistrust reappeared on his face. Malcolm knew he was going to like the purpose of the meeting even less, but there was no way around it.
"I think she wants to... talk to you," he said carefully. "Find out more about you."
Unquestioning obedience was so deeply ingrained in Sev that he didn't say anything, but Malcolm could see that he wasn't happy with the idea. He plucked a non-existent piece of fluff off Sammy's sweater and absentmindedly began to smooth the boy's mussed-up hair, avoiding Malcolm's eyes as he did so. Malcolm remembered the look on Sev's face when he had claimed not to remember anything about Earth. He could imagine very well why his past wasn't something Sev wanted to talk about.
"How about we take a walk to the mess hall," Malcolm suggested, deciding to drop the subject for the moment. "We can discuss everything else while we have breakfast."
Excited, Sammy ran to the door, but his smile faded when his father picked up a pair of shoes that were sitting on the floor next to his bed.
"Do I have to wear those, Daddy?"
"Yes you do," Sev answered firmly. "It's not neat to go barefoot."
"But we always go barefoot! And the shoes hurt my feet, Daddy!"
"You'll get used to them," his father wouldn't give in. "Look, Sara is wearing hers, too!"
Seeing that the person he worshipped from the bottom of his heart had agreed to wear those awful, pinching things, Sammy gave in and allowed his father to slip his feet first into a pair of socks, then into the sneakers.
"I don't wanna be neat," he grumbled, and Malcolm bit back a smile. He had noticed how important it was to Sev that the children were clean and well groomed, and didn't want him to think that he was laughing at him.
On their way to the mess hall both Sammy and Sara kept stumbling over their own feet, and even Sev seemed to feel somewhat uncomfortable in his new shoes. He wouldn't allow the children to take theirs off, though, and so they slowly continued down the corridors, three people learning to walk with shoes for the first time in their life.
The mess hall was crowded as usual at breakfast time, and both human and Vulcan crewmembers stared openly when Malcolm entered with Sev and the children in tow. Malcolm knew most of them had heard about the new arrivals - even with a half Vulcan crew, gossip traveled faster than light on Enterprise. He led his small group over to the cupboards, and soon both children were proudly carrying trays that were loaded with all the breakfast delicacies Enterprise's galley had to offer.
"Lieutenant!"
Malcolm turned around and saw Enterprise's helmsman wave at him, pointing at the empty chairs at his table.
"It's good to see you again," Travis said when Malcolm set his tray down next to his.
"Same here. Ensign, this is Sev, and his children Sara and Sammy."
"My name's Travis Mayweather. Pleased to meet you." Travis smiled and extended a hand. For a moment, Sev paused, then, carefully, he took the hand and shook it.
"I'm pleased to meet you, too," he echoed Travis' words, then glanced at Malcolm as if to check whether he had done everything right. Malcolm smiled. The bowing had never seemed true to Sev's nature, anyway.
Travis, who had several nephews and nieces of his own, took an immediate liking to the two children and in turn won their eternal admiration when he told them that he couldn't only fly a shuttle, but a real starship.
"I'm going to be a starship pilot when I grow up," Sammy announced and stuffed another piece of toast into his mouth. "It's got to be the funnest job in the world."
"I'll have to agree with you on that," Travis grinned. "And what do you want to be?" he asked Sara, and the girl didn't disappoint him.
"I'm going to be a helmsman, too," she said, and to Malcolm's surprise she used the English expression. "That's the right word, isn't it?"
"Yes," Travis nodded. "You pick up the words fast. Maybe you should become a linguist instead of flying a starship."
"My Daddy teach me a little English," Sara said, beaming. Except for a slight accent her pronunciation was very good, and Malcolm was amused to notice that the girl had even adopted a trace of the faint drawl that marked her father's English.
"Taught, honey," Sev said. "I taught you a little English."
"Taught," Sara repeated, filing away the new information. "What's a linguist?"
Travis launched into an explanation, and Malcolm noticed Sev watching his children with an expression of wistful pride. He looked back at Sara and Sammy, laughing and talking about what they were going to do when they grew up, and could imagine what the father was thinking. There was a chance that Sammy might actually do the "funnest job in the world" one day, or that Sara's talent for languages would do more than help her pick up exotic swearwords.
They're going to get their chance, Malcolm thought, still watching Sev's face. But what about you?
But Sev didn't seem to be thinking about himself. He caught Malcolm's eyes and smiled, nodding at the children who were still listening to Travis' explanations.
"I think you have two new Starfleet applicants on your hands," he said. It was the first, careful joke Malcolm had heard from him, and he grinned in response.
"Admiral Forrest would be pleased to hear it," he said. "They're always trying to recruit more people for the science department."
"That's good." Sev paused, then after a while added quietly, " I think I'm very glad we came here to stay with you."
Malcolm smiled.
After a while, Travis excused himself as his shift started in a few minutes, to the disappointment of Sara and Sammy who seemed to enjoy the young helmsman's company. The mess hall grew empty as the crew left to get to their stations, and it wasn't long until Malcolm glanced at the chronometer on the wall and realized that it was time to leave for their meeting with Hoshi and the Captain.
"Can we come, too?" Sammy asked, excited at the idea of going to another place he had never seen before. "Can we, huh, Daddy?"
Sev hesitated, but Malcolm reassured him that it was fine. "I'm sure we can find something to keep them occupied."
It turned out that Hoshi was well prepared in this respect. When they entered the situation room, she came over to shake Sev's hand first, then smiled down at the children.
"Hi, I'm Hoshi Sato. You must be Sara and Sammy, right?"
They nodded, and Sammy added, "I'm Sammy," as if he wanted to make sure there would be no mistakes.
"Right." Hoshi grinned. "Do you two like to look at books?"
The children nodded enthusiastically, and Sara held up her precious treasure, the cookery magazine from the hotel. "I've even got a book of my own!" she said proudly. A strange expression crossed Hoshi's face when she saw the tattered, old thing, but she was careful not to let Sara notice.
"That's great," she said, pulling out a few padds and showing the children how to change the image on the display. "There are several picture books and games on each of these," she said. "Think you can keep busy for a while?"
Sara beamed. "Oh yes. Thank you."
The children sat down at the far end of the conference table, already deeply absorbed in their respective padds.
"That was a good idea, Ensign," Malcolm said to Hoshi, feigning surprise. Her eyebrows twitched in response.
"I do have my moments, Lieutenant," she said, but refrained from adding an insult of her own when the Captain distinctly cleared her throat. T'Pol had already taken a seat at the head of the table. Her eyebrows arched disapprovingly at her senior officers bickering like teenagers.
"Mr. Sev," she said and tilted her head as a way of greeting. "Ensign, Lieutenant. Please, sit down."
Sev complied, and Malcolm sat down next to him so Sev wouldn't feel like he was facing an investigating committee. The man seemed nervous enough as it was.
As usual, T'Pol wasted no time with formalities. "There are several reasons why I arranged this meeting. First of all, we need to decide how we are going to proceed from here." She met Sev's eyes. "You and your children can stay on Enterprise as long as needed, but in the long term we have to find another solution. Another reason is that we need to try and find out about your background, Mr. Sev." She paused. "Do you remember anything about your past that might help us narrow down our search?"
Malcolm winced inwardly. The Captain's no-nonsense manner was ideal when it came to command situations, but sometimes it could also be somewhat... intimidating. Sev, however, didn't seem to mind T'Pol's directness.
"I don't remember much about Earth. I was very young... three, maybe four. There are... some things I remember..." He looked down at his hands.
"Some of your family, maybe?" Hoshi suggested quietly.
"I don't remember the name," Sev said, still talking down at his folded hands. "But I think I had a brother. I remember how we played some kind of game together... we kicked a ball across a lawn..."
"Soccer," Hoshi said, and at Sev's confused expression elaborated, "The ball game. It's called soccer."
"Maybe." Sev shook his head. "I don't remember."
"Is there anyone else you remember?" T'Pol asked. "Your parents, maybe?"
A flicker of pain crossed Sev's face. "The day the MoH'kwan came. I remember how my mother fought them."
"MoH'kwan?" Hoshi repeated. "You mean the Orions?"
"Your mother fought the Orion raiders?" Malcolm asked incredulously. "Was she abducted as well?"
"No," Sev said quietly. "I only remember how she went at them and shouted at them to let me go. I never saw her again after that."
Malcolm and Hoshi exchanged a glance. A single woman fighting a bunch of Orion warriors would have had hardly any chance to survive.
"You told me 'Sev' is not your real name," Malcolm said. "You don't remember what your family called you, do you?"
Sev shook his head. "No."
T'Pol steepled her fingers on the table. "We do know that Mr. Sev comes from an English-speaking country, which narrows down the possibilities considerably. Before the Vulcans came, there were about two hundred Raids in five decades, and only twenty percent of them took place in areas where English is the first language."
"Is there anything else you remember about your home?" Malcolm asked. He hated to put even more pressure on Sev, but knew that they had no choice if they wanted to get anywhere. "What the place looked like?"
Sev frowned. "It was hot," he said after a while. "I don't think it usually got that hot, but the day my brother and I played this game - soccer - it was scorching."
T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "That excludes certain areas in the North, but it still leaves a great number of possibilities open. We will have to find another method of researching the matter."
"I believe I can help you there," Hoshi said suddenly, causing three heads to turn in her direction.
"Ensign?" T'Pol asked.
"It's only a theory, but..." Hoshi typed something on a padd and held it out to Sev. "I think I know where you're from. Could you read out those words to me? That is-" She broke off, realizing her mistake only a second too late. Sev's color deepened and Malcolm noticed him throw a quick side-glance at T'Pol, as if he was particularly embarrassed about her finding out about his illiteracy.
The Captain, however, reacted with perfect calm. Ignoring the three flustered humans, she took Hoshi's padd and looked at Sev.
"If Ensign Sato doesn't mind, I will read out the words so you can repeat them. Is that acceptable, Ensign?"
"Of course, ma'am," Hoshi said quickly. "Please, go on."
Malcolm could make out no connection between the words Hoshi had written down, but the more of them Sev repeated, the broader grew the smile on the communications officer's face. After a while she held up a hand.
"Thank you. Captain, I believe we can assume that Sev's family lives somewhere in the South of the United States of America."
"How did you come to that conclusion, Ensign?" T'Pol asked.
Hoshi smiled. "Well, the accent is very faint, but it is definitely there. There are some distinct hints, like for example the glide reduction -"
"You can add the linguistic details to your report, Ensign," the Captain interrupted, and Malcolm bit his lip when he saw Hoshi's disappointment. "I believe your findings narrowed down the possibilities enough for us to begin a cross-referenced search."
"I'll see what I can do, ma'am." Hoshi got up and walked over to the console that was installed at the far end of the room. Sammy and Sara briefly raised their heads to see what she was doing, but bent back down over their padds when they saw that she was only typing names and numbers.
"Sir..."
Malcolm turned his head and smiled. "I don't listen to that anymore, remember?"
"Malcolm," Sev corrected himself, smiling as well, but at the same time he seemed to be feeling uncomfortable. "I don't really understand. How can you start a computer search on me? My name can't be anywhere in there."
"She's not looking for your name." Malcolm paused, realizing how confusing all of this must be to Sev. He probably hadn't even realized that he had an accent, let alone one that indicated he came from the South of the United States. In all likelihood, Sev had never even heard of a country called the United States of America. "Hoshi believes she knows approximately where you come from," he explained. "Now that we've narrowed down the search to a certain area, we can check the files of all the places that have been Raided, and see if there's any entry that fits your age and gender."
Sev frowned. "The MoH'kwan attacked more than one place?"
Malcolm nodded. "We call those attacks the Raids. They started fifty years before the Vulcans came, and more than 500 000 people were killed or abducted before the Vulcans made first contact with Earth about thirty years ago. They helped us defend ourselves against the Orions, and after a few pirate ships had been destroyed the Raiders decided Earth wasn't such an easy target anymore. They stopped attacking us, and life slowly returned to normal."
"Vulcan also gained an advantage of the alliance," T'Pol picked up the thread. "In the years before we made contact with Earth, our natural resources had run short due to a rather drastic change in climate. Famines were spreading, and we were forced to expand our space program to be able to supply our people with the food the colonies produced. We needed the food and raw materials Earth was able to spare, and they needed our military power to protect them. The alliance was the logical conclusion."
Sev was silent for a while, digesting the information. Then he glanced over at Hoshi who was still busily tapping away at the console. "So there are files of all the people who were abducted?"
"Almost. Most of the places that were Raided listed the people that were Lost in an official file, mostly so their relatives could be informed. They never..." He hesitated. "No one hoped to see one of those people ever again. That's why we called them the Lost Ones."
"None of them ever returned to Earth?" Sev asked quietly.
Malcolm shook his head. "No. You'll be the first."
Before Sev had a chance to react, Hoshi called out from the far end of the room.
"Captain, gentlemen. I may have found something."
They got up, Malcolm glancing at Sev out of the corner of his eye as they went to join Hoshi at the console. The man seemed nervous, as if he wasn't sure he really wanted to hear about Hoshi's findings.
Sleeping dogs, Malcolm thought. If you stir up the past, it may come back to hurt you.
The screen showed a closely printed list of words, the letters too small for Malcolm to read them, but he assumed that they were names, thousands of names compiled in some sort of electronic war memorial. Somewhere in that gigantic assembly of files, Malcolm knew, was the name of his mother.
"There were four Raids in the South of the United States," Hoshi said, diverting Malcolm's attention from the list of names. "The first three took place before you could have possibly been born, so they can be ruled out. The last one, on the other hand, happened only ten months before the Vulcans came. You said you were about four years old?"
Sev nodded. "I think so. I... don't know exactly how old I am."
"I'd say you're in your thirties," Hoshi said. "That fits in with how old you were when the Orions attacked." She turned to the monitor. "This is a list of all people who were abducted in that last Raid in Florida. The file lists 25 boys between three and five, and only nine of them had a brother close to their age. I did a cross-referenced search referring to their family's ethnic background, and I think we can exclude another five because they are either of Hispanic or African-American origin. That leaves four names."
She pressed a button and the list of small-printed names disappeared to be replaced by the pictures of four boys. Malcolm had to take only one look to know that they had found what they were looking for. The boy on the picture was blond, his eyes blue, and his nose resembled Sev's in its slightly upswept shape. He was smiling into the camera, and Malcolm remembered the few occasions when he had seen that very smile on Sev's face.
"Charles Tucker III," he read out the name under the picture, and turned to look at Sev.
The man's face had turned to stone. He stared at the picture that showed his younger self of so many years ago, unaware of the two women and Malcolm who were watching him. Then he said something, so softly that Malcolm didn't catch the words.
"I'm sorry?"
"Trip," Sev said. "They used to call me Trip."
Then, without another word, he turned around and walked out of the room, leaving the three officers and his children staring after him in silence.
TBC...
Please let me know what you think!