"Lieutenant."
"Yes, sir," Will said, standing at attention in Captain Howe's ready room. This was the first time the captain had asked to see him personally since he had joined the Potemkin's crew.
"Your fellow members of the away team have informed me that your conduct during the mission was exemplary. I think it's about time your service aboard this ship was recognized. Therefore, I hereby promote you to Lieutenant Commander. Congratulations."
Will grinned proudly. "Thank you, sir." Now he was one step closer to becoming the youngest captain in Starfleet. He felt invincible.
After accepting the fact that the Potemkin wasn't coming back for him, Will went underground to escape the howling winds. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the lack of light, but once he did, he realized that the science station was truly cavernous. Most of it was underground, and there were all kinds of supplies, including a replicator. The station was powered by wind, and he would have plenty of that.
Will went down the stairs and opened the door to a large room with dozens of computers. He turned on one of them. Scrolling down the screen, he saw thousands upon thousands of logs. It seemed every scientist had recorded one every single day. These logs were of no use to Starfleet. They already had all the information they needed on this desolate place. The logs were just taking up space in the computer files. But he couldn't figure out how to delete them. And maybe they would teach him something useful. Hell, he could even make his own. He pressed a button.
"Lt. Riker's personal log," Will said. He shook his head and turned off the screen. He wasn't Lt. Riker anymore. He wouldn't be Lt. Riker for another eight years, at least. He was no one.
Except to Deanna.
Deanna. Suddenly he remembered. He fished for the small metal container in his belt and opened it. Inside was a lock of Deanna's hair. She had given it to him just before he left. He wished he had given her something to remember him by too. He twirled the hair gently between his fingers, and if he closed his eyes, he could imagine that she was there. Would that thought keep him sane for the next eight years? It would have to. Or else it would drive him mad all the sooner.
He turned on the screen again.
Dear Deanna,
By the time you see this, I'll be a much older man, if I'm still alive. If I'm not alive, then this is my last will and testament. I leave everything I own to you. That's not much, but maybe you'll learn to play the trombone. I'd like to see that.
But let's face it, you'll probably have moved on and found someone else. I wouldn't blame you if you did. You deserve someone who can be there for you every day, as flesh and blood, not just a distant memory. I'd wish you were here with me, to help me cope with this. But that would be selfish. I just hope you'll watch this someday and see the man I was, and the woman you were. I'm sorry for all the grief I must be putting you through. But no matter what happens, I will always be your imzadi, Will.
He shut off the screen. "Are you sure you would like to complete your log at this time?" the computer's voice asked him.
"Yes," Will said.
"Storage space is limited," the voice said. "Each crewmember is allowed only one log entry per year."
"But I'm the only one here!" Will protested.
"Are you sure you would like to complete your log entry at this time?" the computer repeated.
"Yes," Will said. Just as well. He was sure his life would be far too monotonous for a daily record to be interesting. The computer shut down.
Will checked the stardate. Eight years, eight log entries. And then he would be rescued, if he was lucky. He didn't want to be like a prisoner who made a tally in the wall for every day he was inside. No, he would use a calendar like a civilized human being. He picked up a red pen and made a big X over the current day in the calendar on the wall. One.
Will went down another flight of stairs into the scientists' sleeping quarters. As he looked around the room, he thought that he could sleep in a different bed every night. He sat down on the bed closest to the door and took a deep breath. He had gone through training for all sorts of scenarios at the Academy. But nothing had prepared him for this. He found a piece of paper and a pencil, and made a short list of what he needed to do.
1: Survive.
2: Stay sane.
3: Get rescued.
He didn't dare write the fourth step: wait. But the waiting would go a lot faster after he fell asleep.
