Author Notes: Thank you for the reviews! Everything is reaching a climax now! Malcolm might seem a bit OOC, but in my opinion, he is in character considering the really really nasty situation.

Chapter 7

Archer turned as fast as his leg would manage as a pained cry sounded behind him. Malcolm was on the ground, breathing hard. Trip lay next to him, blinking owlishly up at their Captain as he hobbled back. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Fine sir, I tripped." Cursing his stupidity, Malcolm sat up, rubbing his ankle. He was sure that any clotting his wound had done in the past hours had just been undone. As Archer was checking that Trip was okay, Malcolm made to stand up, when he saw just what it was that had caused his fall, "Bloody hell."

Protruding out of the ground, uncovered by Malcolm's boot, was a huge hunk of metal. Oddly, there was not a speck of rust on it, which made Malcolm's mind first jump to a worst case scenario; they had gone around in a circle. But on closer inspection, it was unlike anything Malcolm had seen. The metal's surface had an odd, iridescent sheen to it, and when the light caught it, it seemed as liquid. Archer frowned, "What is it?"

Malcolm frowned, pulling away more clods of earth and moss, "I have no idea, Captain. It seems to be part of some sort of structure."

"We'll stay here. Check it out Lieutenant." Archer ordered. Malcolm could have rolled his eyes if they had been on the planet for a day or two more. Trust that man to slip back into explorer mode at the worst possible times. If it wasn't clearly hostile aliens, it was deserted planets.

Nevertheless, Malcolm followed the pattern of metal which glinted along the ground, running at a right angle to their original path. The metal pieces seemed to be markers of some kind, perhaps indicating a boundary of some sort. Hacking his way through the trees and undergrowth, Malcolm followed the trail until he came out into a small clearing. Malcolm's mouth fell open. Towering in the glade was a huge infrastructure, constructed of the same metal as the piece he had stumbled on. Despite its grandeur, however, it did look worn and decrepit, as if it had been without occupation for a very long time. Tentatively, in case of any defensive attacks from the structure, Malcolm moved towards the opening. Any door that might have been there was long gone.

As Malcolm allowed his eyes adjust to the dark, he was glad he hadn't gone another step. Contrary to what the tall structure might suggest, a tight spiral staircase led immediately downwards. Wary of his injury, Malcolm let his curiosity get the better of him, and he descended the stairs.

The stairs led down to a singular room, circular in design. It appeared to be some kind of research station. Beyond the cracked screens and frayed wires lay a complex array of consoles, many still active. Lights still flickered from the stations, but Malcolm was drawn to a singular screen that was still in working order. Rotating, surrounded by many readings in another language, was a sphere, coloured blue. Attached to the sphere was a small red dome in its upper half, and within that was a flashing blue dot, right in the centre. Malcolm blinked as the diagram zoomed in and flattened out to a more complex diagram with different shapes. Again, the red dome was a key feature. The screen continued to rotate between these two images. And then it clicked.

Malcolm slid to the floor, all his energy leaving him. They had gone the wrong way. Of all the stupid… This station was the blue dot, the red dome the range of the energy, the tower above him a way of transmitting. It was a bloody experiment that some idiot had forgotten to turn off. Malcolm swallowed back any tears that threatened to fall. He couldn't lose it, there had to be a way to turn this stupid thing off. Standing, Malcolm swayed, blinking fiercely as his vision greyed again. At first he attributed it to the blood loss, but then a wave of nausea hit him full force, and he fell to his knees, heaving empty retches until it subsided. Vomiting was bad enough, but it was far worse when you had nothing left to throw up. Viciously wiping away the tears that had involuntarily formed in his eyes, Malcolm stood once more. The light seeping down into the room from the door was fading, and his first priority was Archer and Trip.

Archer settled against the wall of the huge structure, watching as Malcolm gently laid Trip on the ground next to him. He watched as the younger officer and rose, blinking rapidly in what seemed like an attempt to wake himself up. The reality was only just setting in for Jon. It was his fault. He had led them this way; the wrong way. It was his fault Trip was as injured as he was. He was jerked out of his thoughts by a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'm going down there to see if I can turn it off, sir."

Archer didn't argue. Instead he produced one of their communicators, "We can contact Enterprise on this."

If Malcolm was at all surprised that his captain was still carrying around a useless piece of technology after almost ten days, he didn't show it.

Malcolm slammed his hands against the wall. They wouldn't stop shaking. He had already cut himself with his own knife three times. Curling them into fists, Malcolm closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. It was becoming harder to breathe too; his chest felt like someone had wrapped iron around it, and was tightening it every hour.

The technology was way beyond his understanding. Even if he could read the symbols that made the alphabet, he doubted whether he'd have much of an advantage. Malcolm turned to throw up again, only succeeding in spitting out a small amount of bile that burned his abused throat. He was getting worse. In the back of his mind, Malcolm knew his body was getting into a very dangerous state, but he had to keep trying. He shivered. He had to get them out.

Jon turned to regard Malcolm as he came up the stairs and sat down heavily across from him and Trip, He didn't meet Jon's eyes, "I couldn't fix it." His voice was hoarse, "I couldn't turn it off. I'll keep trying; I just thought you'd want to know, sir."

Archer shook his head, "No, Malcolm, you already spent all last night trying. We need help. You're still uninjured. Without us hindering you, you could make it back to the crash site in half the time it took us to get here, and then you can continue on. We need help. If you take the communicator, you can contact Enterprise; get a rescue team. If you leave now, you can make it across the river before nightfall."

It took Malcolm's mind a while to process what Jon had just said, and then even more time to calculate it all. A frown flitted across his features. They wouldn't survive that long, hell, he wouldn't survive that long. The idiot was trying to be selfless, screwing over Trip's life in the process, and unknowingly, Malcolm's too. Malcolm blinked against the stars that danced across his vision, "No sir." Malcolm tried to control his breathing against his constricted chest; he didn't want to die alone, "I'm more use here. I should get back down there."

Malcolm rose as Archer shook his head, "I'm not giving you a choice Lieutenant - go."

"No." The reply was short with no thought or formalities behind it.

Jon was getting desperate now; it was usually Trip, not Malcolm who questioned orders when he thought it best. Generally, when it finally came down to it, Malcolm always followed orders. Until now. "Lieutenant." He adopted a dangerous tone, "You are aware that you are disobeying a direct order from a superior officer?"

Malcolm looked down to meet his Captain's eyes, "Yes." There was no affliction in the tone.

"Lieutenant!"

"No!" Malcolm yelled, "I'm not bloody well leaving, so get used to it!"

Although shocked, Archer pressed on, desperate for at least one of them to survive this, "You'll face a court martial for this-"

Malcolm snorted, "And who's going to be the judge? That tree over there?"

"You're out of line Lieutenant."

"Oh, fuck off Archer!"

Jon blinked, not even attempting to catch Malcolm as he stormed down the stairs to the room below. He had never been talked to like that by any subordinate – let alone Malcolm Reed.

Malcolm collapsed forwards as the stairs met the floor. Shadows darted and flickered, dancing with the stars on his eyes. His elbows buckled as his hands shook so much they wouldn't support his weight. His whole body shivered under the cold sweat that bathed his overheated skin. No longer were the gashes on his side painful, but the wounds on his back screamed and seared, as if the very flesh was being eaten away by snakes and fire. He tried to vomit, but his throat closed, causing tears to stream down his cheeks. Panic, rage, despair, terror, fury, desolation. All mixed up until it came bursting out. Malcolm staggered up, picked up one of the huge lumps of metal that littered the floor, and hurled it at the screen. He smashed his fists against the metal and glass until his skin was in shreds. Sobs wracked his body, caused by the pain and the emotion that had built within him. As his muscles tensed, his joints collapsed, his vision dimmed, and his body went incomplete shutdown, above, Archer's communicator flared into life.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: One more chapter people! Please let me know what you think!