Chapter Text
“Someone always dies. Always.”
- The Organians, Observer Effect
O Death, O Death, won’t you spare me over ‘til another year?
- line from a traditional American folk song, hauntingly sung by Jen Titus
Archer looks out the shuttlepod window as Travis takes them down.
“You said if we weren’t back by day then my officer would be - “ he forces out the word - “gutted.” He gestures to the sun. “Well it sure looks like daytime to me.”
Jamin and Nadette watch him warily.
“Well?” he snaps.
But they continue to take refuge in dumb, maddening silence.
Frustrated, he contacts Enterprise. “Are you still picking up Malcolm’s biosign?”
“We are,” T’Pol says, and some of that awful tension in his stomach eases.
“Keep monitoring him. And keep an eye on the others too. Let me know if there’s any change. Archer out.”
Travis is listening to the conversation, his posture tense. Archer wants to tell him to pick up the pace, but he bites his tongue. Travis is doing the best he can, and he knows what’s at stake too.
Still, he can’t help but feel that they’re running out of time.
He tells Jamin and Nadet about the proposal to relocate the Novans, and Jamin’s resistance distracts him somewhat until the shuttlepod lands. He readies himself to spring into action, to race down the tunnels to Malcolm.
But then they fall, and they keep falling until they come to rest on the floor of an abandoned tunnel.
“You’re down about eight metres,” Trip tells them over the comm system, “but you should be okay.”
He nods. “You're going to have to build a rig to get this pod back on the surface.”
The tunnels, Jamin leading them down, down. Then the injured Novan - Akary - and Archer is working so hard to free him that he doesn’t hear the sound of his communicator at first.
“What is it?” he says, panting with exertion.
“Captain,” T’Pol says urgently, “our scans indicate a change in activity of the Novans guarding Lieutenant Reed. There are six biosigns with him now, and more are congregating.”
“Acknowledged,” he says, holding Jamin’s gaze. He flips the communicator away. “Does that mean what I think it does?”
Jamin looks at Nadet and then nods stiffly. “They are preparing.”
He points to the tunnels. “You need to get to my officer right now, tell them to stop.”
“And him?” Jamin jerks his head at Akary.
“I’ll carry him. Nadet can show us the way.”
Jamin hesitates, suspicious.
“Please!” he says, desperate.
“You must go,” Nadet adds, urging Jamin, her eyes wide.
Reluctantly Jamin disappears down the farthest tunnel.
With grunts and strains he heaves the injured man along, Nadet guiding them, but they’ve only made it about ten metres before his communicator trills again.
“T’Pol?” he says, breathing hard.
“I’m unable to detect Lieutenant Reed’s biosign.”
Nadet is backing away from him, frightened.
“It is gone.”
O Death, O Death, won’t you spare me over ‘til another year?