Manhunt

Jon ran through the corridors of the nearly deserted Enterprise, sweating and heart hammering. He gripped his pistol tightly in his hand.

Damn it Malcolm, where are you? he thought, almost desperately.

Enterprise was orbiting a planet, most of the crew down below, enjoying shore leave on this harmless and hospitable planet, only a bare minimum on night shift this late.

He should have expected this. But how do you expect the unexpected? People were so damn unpredictable.

He knew there were at least two crewmembers in Engineering, but he bypassed it without a second thought. This wasn't something he wanted his crew to see. Their captain running through the ship, being hunted, this cursed vest strapped to him, making him the target.

He slid around a corner and ran down toward the bowels of the ship.

Where would Malcolm hide? he thought, trying to get into the mind of his beloved. But knowing Malcolm, he wouldn't hide in the obvious places.

Jon halted suddenly, catching his breath, listening.

So damn quiet, he thought. Always so damn quiet. He couldn't tell if he was being followed or not.

He suddenly decided that the narrow crawl ways of the Jeffery Tubes were too transparent a ploy.

Shuttlebay—a pod.

Jon reversed direction, avoiding the turbolift. Too easy to track. How the hell do I get myself into these messes?

He ran faster, goal in sight. He entered the shuttlebay, his boots echoing loudly. He heard the whine of a pistol and his vest erupted.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The light on his vest flickered rapidly.

Malcolm stood there, grin on his face, his vest still dark and silent. "Tag, Jon. You're it."