Manuel didn't give Archer the chance to touch Sammel. He bent and scooped up the smaller O'Malley in his arms and turned without a word, carrying him toward the infirmary. It was the least he could do. His brother shot the boy after all.
Archer kept pace, checking Sammel's pulse. Manuel could tell from holding him he was still alive. It was easy to tell. The part that still made Sammel who he was hadn't left yet. If it did, he'd feel like a sack of meat.
There was something odd about him, though. Manuel found he gained a great deal more strength since arriving in space. Unfettered by the intense gravity of his native planet he was faster and more powerful than ever, and that was saying something. But there was a weight to Sammel which shouldn't have been there in the slim body of a twelve-year-old boy, like the core of him was made of lead. Despite his great strength, Manuel found he was tired by the time they reached the infirmary and was happy to lay the boy out on the bed.