Solo Post by LtCmdr Zeke Pride
1012 words

Lieutenant Commander Ezekiel “Zeke” Pride stood on the bridge of the wrecked alien ship, staring out through the large hole blown in the side by whatever had downed it on this M class moon. The bridge was as secure as they could make it. They had Jerry-rigged the hatch they had cut open so they could seal it off from below. The only way in was through the hole, and one would need to fly or have climbing equipment to do so.

Zeke squinted against the setting sun. He glanced up at the first appearing stars, wondering if, after that debris fell, their ship was still up there — and any hope of getting off this moon.

“It’s getting late,” Zeke finally said. “They haven’t checked in. I should have gone with them.”

“You’re still recovering from radiation poisoning, sir,” Lieutenant Olixia Sonat said from where she sat on what was left of some kind of console, doing an inventory of what supplies they had from the wreckage of their shuttle. “That was very brave of you.”

“I’m the commanding officer now. It’s my job to look after the safety of my crew.”

“You were barely conscious, sir. You weren’t fit to go investigate the escape pod. Bassin will look after them.”

Zeke grunted. He felt better now, but the Bolian science officer was right. He’d taken more radiation than expected while shutting down the wreck’s leaking nuclear generator. He scratched at a rash on his arm. Was that from the radiation poisoning, or just a reaction to some local alien plant?

Starfleet was Zeke’s life, but he now thought of the things he had given up for that. The possibility that he had just been sterilized by radiation couldn’t help but cross his mind, despite the doctor’s assurances.. He’d always thought, vaguely, that someday he’d meet the right woman and settle down, and have kids. Was that something he had now to give up?

Zeke was pulled from his thoughts by a beep from a tricorder.

“Proximity alert,” Lt. Sonat said, the small Bolian hopping down from the console.

“The Argo,” Zeke said, listening, his pilot ears making out the faint sound of the fusion engine on the craft.

Olixia grunted as she yanked open the hatch, and they both headed down the ladder to the large garage bay beneath and pushed open the bay doors to admit Bassin in the Argo.

“Where are the others?” Zeke asked, frowning. “Did you leave them alone? You’re their security officer!”

“Sir. It’s Commander McHale and Lieutenant McIntyre,” Olixia said. “They’re unconscious. And…” she paused, looking in the back.

“What?” Zeke asked.

“Lieutenant Krisk, sir. She’s…Sattie’s dead, sir.”

Zeke frowned. He didn’t know Sattie Krisk.

“Engineering, sir. We…went to Academy together. We had a weekly lunch. One of Lieutenant Navine’s, sir.”

Zeke grew solemn and nodded. He listened to Basin’s report as he helped unload the extra supplies from the escape pod and then the bodies.

“Get back to the others,” Zeke said. “Make sure they’re safe. We’re hunkered in here, so it’s unlikely anything will happen.”

Basin nodded and climbed back into the Argo, but Pride was already digging through the escape pod’s survival kit as the security officer rumbled off.

“Sir?” Olixia asked, straightening up from Sattie’s body. She sniffed slightly.

“We’ll need a way to get them up to the bridge,” Pride explained, pulling out a winch and pulley system and a climbing harness. She tossed the harness to Sonat. “Put that on McHale while I set this up.”

Olixia wiped her eyes. “Yes, sir,” she said.

Pride took a breath and looked at the small Bolian, putting his hand on her shoulder and meeting her eyes. “We’ll decide what to do about Krisk when the others are back,” he said. “You never get used to the loss, just better at handling it.”

Pride climbed the ladder, and soon had the winch and pulley set up at the top of the shaft. He lowered the wire down to Olixia who, grunted, hefted the much larger Commander Mikhail to a sitting position to attach the clip to the rings on the harness she’d put on him.

It took them some time, but they managed to get the three bodies up the shaft onto the bridge. They settled Mikhail and McIntyre against one wall, and Krisk’s body by itself in a corner, covered by an environmental blanket. Olixia grabbed a medical kit and took out the tricorder to scan them.

“Bruisings, contusions, concussions, some burns, likely exploding consoles. No internal injuries.”

“What the hell happened up there?” Pride wondered, looking up instinctively. “Do what you can for them. Looks like the Doc has already done something. Get some water in them and make them comfortable. Keep an eye on those concussions.”

“Yes, sir,” Olixia said.

Zeke went back to the hole in the bridge and stared out. The sun was heading beneath the horizon now.

“It’s going to be dark soon,” Pride said. “We don’t know what this place is like at night.” The tricorder would alert them of most trouble that might come their way. But that wasn’t going to get them off this moon. And if the Potemkin was gone…

Pride listened to the bleating of the alien sheep-like creatures settling in the fore of the ship below them for the night.

“What do you know about domesticating wild sheep, Lieutenant?”

Olixia looked up, startled by the question, eyes large in the quickly gathering dimness. “I’m a physicist, sir,” she said. “I grew up in the city. I–I’ve never even heard of sheep, sir.”

“Never mind.” Zeke went over to the pile of gear collected from the escape pod they had lugged up the ladder and pulled out the emergency transponder and swung it up onto his back. “I’ll be topside for a bit. Yell if you need me.”

Let’s see if anyone can hear our cry for help, Pride thought as he climbed up to the hanger levels and the top of the ship. Someone who doesn’t want us dead.