The BLTS Archive - Shadows Twp by Kalita Kasar (kalitafic@hotmail.com) --- Spoiler Warning: Shadows of P'Jem Archive: Those with previous permissions Yes! All others please ask first. Disclaimer: I don't own them. They were born in other creative minds, but they keep intruding into mine, so what's a girl to do? I don't make any money from this, tis but a labour fraught with love...theirs and mine. --- It was pitch dark, his vision obscured by the black hood; he could hear the sound of night insects, their incessant chirping a muted background to his thoughts. He gritted his teeth and twisted his wrists against the tight bonds that held his hands secure behind his back. At his side, he could feel his fellow captive engaged in the same silent struggle. There was a sharp hiss of pain, quickly suppressed and he felt the man beside him tense for an instant before the struggles began anew. They were jumped a few minutes after landing on the planet's surface. They were outnumbered, and the two assailants had pushed him backwards along the alley, slamming him painfully against a wall. A black hood was pulled swiftly over his head. Blinded, Malcolm had been unable to fight the men who attacked him. The sounds of frustrated shouts and curses told him Tucker had met the same fate. Malcolm sighed with exasperation. The cords around his wrists wouldn't budge and his skin was raw from chafing against them. "Malcolm?" He answered the whispered query with a grunt. "I'm sorry." "Not your fault," Malcolm said through clenched teeth. He pulled against the restraints again, testing for any sign of loosening. He was unsure how long they'd been tied up here. The black hood over his head made it difficult to orient himself or keep track of anything that might measure time. "We have to get free," he added, and heard a sound of assent from the commander. They struggled in silence for several minutes until the sound of a door opening froze them both. Malcolm tensed, raising his head inside the hood, straining to hear anything that would give him a clue to their captor's size, or weight, things that might help him to plan a tactical response. As best he could tell, there were two people in the room, one of them had moved to the side of where they sat. The other was somewhere behind him. He heard sounds of footfalls and the hood was suddenly yanked away. Light flooded into his eyes, forcing him to close them for a moment. The person who had removed the hood stepped away into the shadows and Malcolm cursed silently. For the moment they, whoever they were, held the advantage. He glanced at Tucker, waiting to see what the commander would do. "You should have listened to the Vulcan." A voice spoke from the shadows. "He warned you against doing anything foolish." A man stepped forward from the shadows, His face still obscured, but Malcolm could see enough to realize the man was Andorian. He squinted, trying to make out facial features. "What the hell are you doin' here?" Trip said, staring up at the man who stood over him. "Looking out for you pink skins." The Andorian stepped forward, into the light and Malcolm immediately recognized him as Shran. One of the Andorians they had met at the Vulcan monastery. "If you'd have gone anywhere near that shuttlepod," Shran said, "You'd have been killed." He moved to lean against a wall, looking down at them. Malcolm studied Shran's face for a moment, glancing to Trip to gauge his reaction as well. If memory served him correctly, the Andorians hadn't been exactly friendly the last time the Enterprise crew encountered them and he wasn't prepared to trust them just yet either. He listened with only half an ear to Shran's posturing about the 'treacherous Vulcans' his mind more occupied with planning a means of escape. With their hands tied, he and Trip were still at a heavy disadvantage but Shran and his sidekick didn't appear to be armed. If he could manage to relay his intentions to Tucker, somehow, they might be able to overpower at least one of the Andorians. He lowered his eyes, keeping his expression carefully neutral. "You tried to kill us the last time we met," Trip said. "Why are trying to help us now?" "I haven't...slept well since our encounter at the Vulcan sanctuary," Shran replied. "I don't like being indebted to anyone...least of all your captain." Malcolm started slightly as he felt cold metal press against his wrists. His heart leaped into overdrive as he tensed, ready to fight if necessary, but the blade sliced through the cords and he brought his hands to the front, rubbing the chafed skin as Tucker was cut loose as well. So, it seemed that the Andorians, for whatever reason were willing to ally themselves with himself and Tucker. He could accept that, although years of training told him not to trust them too easily, or too completely. He looked over their map of the compound, listening as Tholos explained where the captain and sub commander were being held, and the number of guards. He was relieved when Shran eventually agreed to take Tucker and himself along on the rescue attempt. --- More like a Fiasco, he thought later as he lay in bed trying to rest and recover from the minor, but irritating injuries he'd received on the mission. Mostly bruising and rope burns, they would heal quickly, but were a smarting reminder to him of his own laxity. Malcolm sighed staring into the darkness of his quarters. He should have been more wary in that shantytown. The fact they had walked unchallenged through what amounted to a rebel outpost should have alerted him to trouble long before it happened. He didn't even have a phase pistol in his hand as he and Tucker sauntered through the small compound, scanning for the shuttlepod. Once again, his dereliction had lead him, and members of his crew into potentially life threatening danger. He muttered a curse and sat up on the side of the bed. Admittedly, he couldn't have forseen the attack by the Vulcans, and, they had managed to rescue the captain and T'Pol. Yet he hadn't even noticed the threat to Sopeck. It should have been he, not T'Pol who intervened to protect the Vulcan captain. What if that Bullet had been meant for his own commanding officer? Malcolm palmed his face and growled softly. He'd failed again. Yet another proof that his father was right. He wasn't cut out for this life; he should have stayed with the navy, safe on Earth where he wouldn't constantly bring trouble on his crewmates. It was a bad ending to a bad couple of days. Nothing had gone right. Nothing had worked out as he planned. From his date the previous evening with Tucker right through to his miserable failure on Coridan. Malcolm sighed and looked towards the streaming stars outside his porthole. Perhaps it was time he faced the facts and applied to be transferred back home. It was obvious that he was not cutting it out here. "Starfleet's finest?" Malcolm snorted derisively. "Hardly." --- The End