Exploratory.
By
Serena Aris.
Disclaimers: Paramount and other big organisations own Star Trek: Voyager, the ship, its crew and the whole trek universe. I'm just borrowing some of it for a short amount of time.
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Exploratory.
By
Serena Aris.
Chapter One.
It was in free-fall. The Delta Flyer was dropping like a stone. Nose-end first like a dart. The crew of the shuttle fought desperately for control in the little time left. The counting down of time before it hit the ground. It smashed through some thin porous clouds scattering fluffy debris in its wake.
Inside the shell of the shuttle was bathed in crimson light. Consoles flashed erratically accompanied by sparks. Panels burst, bleeding out cables and fumes. The only areas that seemed to have any power, the rest of the ship was dead. Fighting against the extreme g forces Tom Paris dragged his tall form toward his helm console. "I need engines back online NOW!" He yelled over the wailing alarms and klaxons that surprisingly still worked.
"The engineering command functions aren't responding!" Answered Harry Kim who was furiously prodding at various controls. A bulkhead overhead spat and sparked like the tail end of a rocket, making him duck for cover.
The ship hit some turbulence in the stratosphere and was flung into a flat spin. The hull groaned and strained, sending tremors throughout the shuttle, knocking the three crewmembers off of their seats. Added with the atmospheric pressure it didn't make their descent any smoother.
Scaling up from the floor using her chair to reach her console Seven of Nine was reassured to see Lieutenant Paris already in his seat and Ensign Kim attempting to do the same. Bracing herself with one arm against her station and tapping in commands with the other, she was forced to ignore errant tendrils of blonde hair, which had escaped their scraped back styling. She informed her colleagues "I am transferring all available power to the engines, including life support."
We won't need it if we smash to pieces anyway, thought the pilot's cynical side as the engines faintly hummed to life. "Acknowledged, Seven." He shouted out loud but the ship's rocking made it come out as a warble. The engines didn't have enough power to get them back into space but it gave them a better chance of some sort of landing on the planet below. A chance Paris was going to take. Hitting the thrusters, he broke out of the stomach churning spin, sending him hurtling in the opposite direction with the abrupt stop. It had stopped them from spinning but had damaged one of the engines.
A mountain range with plenty of oxygen loving, green, vegetation could now be seen through the windows. "Ten seconds to impact!" Called out Paris to prepare his friends as much as distract himself. He was fighting against unconsciousness as his vision dimmed with the downward pressure and his blood being pushed down his body away from his head. Then the remaining engine flickered on and offline.
Nine seconds remaining. Kim thought about his family at home, on the other side of the galaxy. He made silent farewells to them and to his newer members present with him.
Eight seconds left and Paris could see more clearly Earth-like trees. It gave him a brief memory of home, and then his thoughts went to Voyager and her crew, which had provided his second chance in life. Then his thoughts turned to concern, he hoped that their misfortune would just be their own, not anybody else's that happened to get in the way of the crashing ship.
One more second elapsed and the Borg/ Human hybrid analysed a disturbing sensation that was new to her, and concluded that it was fear. Fear for her individuality and mortality and fear for others.
Six seconds. The young flight controller guided their descent vector as best he could with one engine. He used what was left to take the clearest path available. When the engine died out there was nothing else he could do but wait an eternity in such a small amount of time.
With five seconds gone the Ensign had to remind himself to breathe - there was always a small chance. They had been through so much for it to end already. They had the "best damn pilot they could have" at the helm. there might be a chance.
Four seconds remaining. "Brace for impact!" They took up crash positions, bodies compressed against chairs, heads covered and eyes scrunched up tight. Three seconds. The ship hacked through the forest canopy. At two seconds breaths were held. One second, time's up. The ship crashed into the ground.
To be continued…