xxx
Sacred Grounds
Lieutenant Reed wouldn't come.
T'Pol blinked, trying to maintain the tenuous thread of logic among the shadows that were slowly invading her mind. An effect of the poisonous effects of the Eylordene atmosphere... She would have to report it to Dr. Phlox...
She blinked again. Dr. Phlox. He was in on it. The doctor had suggested she come down with canisters, telling her he would be producing more canisters, enough that she would be safe. But he never intended to do so. Lieutenant Reed had never had any intention of coming back. They were all in on it.
She blinked the thoughts away, noting breathing had become somewhat less burdensome. Perhaps the atmosphere was changing to accommodate her needs. But a planet did not change its atmosphere. An external intervention had to be involved. External intervention...
She blinked. Of course. They were trying to destroy Vulcan. That was the reason they had come to A'Er'Orl. Enterprise had been delegated by Starfleet. If they could identify the poisonous elements in the air, they would be able to replicate them. She had to warn Soval.
She blinked, trying to regain control. The bright threads of logic that illuminated her world lay in her mind in broken pieces, fragments of light without continuity. If she could weave them together, she would find peace and balance. Balance... It would counterbalance the effects of the atmosphere. Atmosphere... Above the atmosphere was Enterprise. Enterprise...
She blinked. That was the logical thread. ... Enterprise... The center of all threads. She was a Vulcan aboard Enterprise. She had been the intended victim. It had been planned all along. They had brought her here so they could study how the atmosphere affected her. How fast it took.
That was the first logical thread. She mentally nestled it in her lap. She needed to hang on to it, remember its contours, so she could anchor it to the next logical thread. Next. Logical. Thread...
The next logical thread was... Starfleet had delegated Enterprise to study the effects of A'Er'Orl atmosphere on her. Starfleet knew she was a Vulcan on Enterprise. It was not her only. It was all Vulcans. Starfleet wanted to destroy Vulcan. They had brought Enterprise to the planet under a false pretext. The false pretext of trying to get rid of her. It was eminently logical. Everything came back to Enterprise. That was proof that her thinking was correct.
She mentally grabbed the two logical threads. They fused together in a series of logical connections. It all made sense. It was right.
She sat in silence, savoring the peace and stability that the restored logic brought to her mind.
xxx
Somewhere in the A'Ea Straights
What had he been thinking?!
What exactly had prompted him to volunteer for the diving team?!
What the hell?!
And he couldn't quit.
Not when he was standing right there in the middle of the craft with the rest of the Eylordene team.
Not when he was lined up, ready to step up and out into the void.
The void with the ocean at the bottom. The ocean. The ocean! The. OCEAN.
"Breathe... just breathe" Reed started the mantra in his mind, hanging out to each syllable, desperately trying to keep his mind busy.
He mentally counted each letter in each word. B. r. e. a. t. h. e. If his mind was busy, it wouldn't be able to look at the open hatch ahead of him, think about the ocean. Aaargh! The ocean! Again!
Just breathe. "Breathe... just breathe" If only he had a paper bag... He didn't think the Eylordenes knew what paper bags were. Hell, he was well beyond paper-bag-hyperventilation by now. Well beyond. Beyond all of Phlox's pills in the world.
Though the pills from Dr. Phlox had helped some. He'd taken one soon after Zhezhill announced the diving team would go down. Screw what Phlox had said about spacing these things apart. He wasn't sure if they worked. But if they didn't... He wasn't sure what he would be like if they didn't.
"Breathe... just breathe" The warm liquid coursing down his legs was not water. When he took the suit off he would claim it was water. Screw that too. It didn't matter. He didn't care. What the hell had he been thinking?!
"Waterheads! Ready!" The team leader hollered.
Reed's stomach fell to his feet. He was going to be sick. Right there. In his helmet. A very comfortable, well insulated, completely protected helmet. That couldn't get wet. Except from the inside. "Breathe... just breathe"
He gagged a little. managed to hold on to his stomach contents. He wished he could be back out of his body, looking down on the scene. Anywhere but here. But his mind was riveted to his physical self this time around. There was no reprieve. No reprieve.
The first diver disappeared through the gaping maw. Then the next one. "Breathe... just breathe" Forget it! He was going to step aside, just explain that he needed to stay on board, tell Zheezhill that he was a coward, tell all of them that he was a coward. Yes, he would do that!
He took a step forward.
The Reeds were not cowards.
And all of a sudden he was spiraling into the void. He wasn't sure how. He didn't remember jumping. Perhaps the team leader had push- he hit the water with a splash that reverberated through his bones.
Water. All around. Over him. Over his head.
Time to panic.
But it was tough to panic when he wasn't even wet. When he could see everything around him, when he was floating in the illusion of weightlessness. Come on, Malcolm, it's like being in space. Just the same. Yes, that's what he was going to keep telling himself. And perhaps he would even believe it. He looked longingly up at the halo of light up above. That's where he wanted to go. The air in his lungs should be bringing him up there. But somehow the diving suit was holding him back.
Streams of bubbles erupted all around him and he looked at where they were coming from. The diving team was on its way, he saw their undulating forms receding below.
The sweeper gently signaled him onward. Reed looked at the extended arm, at the direction it was pointing. Down. Not up. Wrong way. The sweep signaled again, more urgently. Reed closed his eyes. The nightmare was turning more hellish. As if that was possible. He'd been resigned to his death since he'd donned the suit. Now it seemed he would have to die all the way at the bottom.
He had a mission to fulfill first. He would die fulfilling it. A fitting death, if anything. He actioned the propulsion mechanism and gave a kick. The effort was multiplied by the suit and he found himself shooting like an arrow towards the unseen depths, his mind screaming in muted horror as he silently made his way.
The downward motion slowed, then stopped, and still the shuttle was nowhere in sight. Only the dark unknown of deep recesses. The sweeper stopped at his side, his extended arm showing only one direction. Down. Still down. "I get it, I get it," Reed mumbled in frustration.
Why wouldn't the Eylordene leave him alone? He could go back up and claim he'd lost his way. He looked around. The light from the surface had completely disappeared, he had no idea where he was, what was up and what was down. He was disoriented, he would never find the ship. A rise of panic brushed his mind again. Keep thinking about something else.
The sweeper's insistent signaling kept him moored to reality. The shuttle. Yes, the shuttle. He nodded and actioned the forward mechanism again, and they resumed their silent glide. Downward. Ever downward.
Reed wondered if one could actually die of fear.