Marooned on Giri Minor
"Are you in any shape for an 8-kilometer hike across the open desert?" Andrade asks.
Yes, you are injured, but given all that has just happened you would rather be on the move. "I can make it," you say. "Other than a cracked rib, I feel good."
Andrade sighs. "And I suppose I'm the person who should go with you. I am a communications officer, so if we find a transmitter there, I'll be the person most qualified to use it."
She turns to Lieutenant Nimjey. "I'm putting you in charge of organizing the camp."
"Yes, sir," Nimjey replies.
"We've lost 6 people tonight," Andrade continues, speaking louder so everyone can hear. "Two people are lost in space. Three of our fellow passengers perished in the crash. And the captain... well, he died trying to keep the rest of us alive. So now it's our turn to help keep each other alive. Do you understand me?"
The people in uniform mutter their agreement.
"Remember," she goes on, "we have some gravely injured people among us, as well as two little kids. If you can walk, then get those who can't into the shelter of the cargo hold. Then let's see what we have for supplies and equipment."
With that, the people who just a moment ago felt stunned and defeated by the crash now feel a sense of common purpose, springing into action to establish a camp of sorts here in the desert, illuminated by the light of the burning forward half of the downed transport vessel.
Then Commander Andrade turns to you. "I'm going to get a scan of the intervening terrain and create a map. Why don't you go and see what supplies you can find for us?"
"Yes, sir," you say.
All of the able-bodied survivors are now busy setting up the camp, with a priority of getting the injured people into the shelter first. Even Yiggy and Easa help carry what they can. Dr. Munro, the xenoanthropologist heading to the planet Folvan, volunteers to serve as a medic.
"When you're spending months at a time at a remote research outpost," she says, "you can't go to the nearest hospital for every little bruise or sniffle. It pays to be self-sufficient."
"And her bedside manner is not bad, either," her husband Ander Dyo says. He seems cheerful despite being marooned on an alien world with a fractured leg.
"Unfortunately," the doctor continues, "we have almost no medical equipment here. I can put splints on the broken bones, but that's about it."
You find Lieutenant Nimjey organizing the cargo hold from a chaotic pile of luggage and duffel into something everyone will be able to sleep in. "The commander and I are setting off to investigate the old colony site," you say. "Have we found any food or water?"
"Not much," Nimjey says. "You might want to check with Lieutenant Oviedo-Nandez over there."
He points the engineering team that had been traveling to their new assignment on the Khubu homeworld. They are now systematically combing through the contents of the cargo bay looking for anything that might be useful. You approach Oviedo-Nandez and explain to him what you're looking for.
"Food?" he says. "I hope you like NutriRations. My man Chief Ibanz here had a small stash in his bag that he was saving for a rainy day. He would be honored to share them with you and the commander. Isn't that right, Ibanz?"
"Honored, sir," Ibanz says, never looking up from his work.
"Water?" Oviedo-Nandez continues. "We're not doing so well there. I came across a total of four bottles that made it out of the ship. That's it--not even four full liters to split between everyone here. Take them. If you're hiking across the desert so you can call home, you're going to need them. Around here, they're just going to breed resentment."
The third member of the team, Chief Gunder, speaks up. "Here's a plasgun, sir. That might be useful."
Oviedo-Nandez puts these meager supplies in a pair of rucksacks for you, and then throws in a couple jackets and a single handlight pulled out of someone's duffel bag.
"So far this is it," he says. "Sorry I'm not much of a quartermaster, but mostly what we've been finding are spare uniforms, family photos, musical instruments. Apparently no one on this flight was preparing for a wilderness backpacking trip."
"We'll take what we can get," you say.
"Just remember that people will be relying on you," he says. "We may have survived the crash, but keeping alive in a desolate wasteland is a different thing."
Yes, you are injured, but given all that has just happened you would rather be on the move. "I can make it," you say. "Other than a cracked rib, I feel good."
Andrade sighs. "And I suppose I'm the person who should go with you. I am a communications officer, so if we find a transmitter there, I'll be the person most qualified to use it."
She turns to Lieutenant Nimjey. "I'm putting you in charge of organizing the camp."
"Yes, sir," Nimjey replies.
"We've lost 6 people tonight," Andrade continues, speaking louder so everyone can hear. "Two people are lost in space. Three of our fellow passengers perished in the crash. And the captain... well, he died trying to keep the rest of us alive. So now it's our turn to help keep each other alive. Do you understand me?"
The people in uniform mutter their agreement.
"Remember," she goes on, "we have some gravely injured people among us, as well as two little kids. If you can walk, then get those who can't into the shelter of the cargo hold. Then let's see what we have for supplies and equipment."
With that, the people who just a moment ago felt stunned and defeated by the crash now feel a sense of common purpose, springing into action to establish a camp of sorts here in the desert, illuminated by the light of the burning forward half of the downed transport vessel.
Then Commander Andrade turns to you. "I'm going to get a scan of the intervening terrain and create a map. Why don't you go and see what supplies you can find for us?"
"Yes, sir," you say.
All of the able-bodied survivors are now busy setting up the camp, with a priority of getting the injured people into the shelter first. Even Yiggy and Easa help carry what they can. Dr. Munro, the xenoanthropologist heading to the planet Folvan, volunteers to serve as a medic.
"When you're spending months at a time at a remote research outpost," she says, "you can't go to the nearest hospital for every little bruise or sniffle. It pays to be self-sufficient."
"And her bedside manner is not bad, either," her husband Ander Dyo says. He seems cheerful despite being marooned on an alien world with a fractured leg.
"Unfortunately," the doctor continues, "we have almost no medical equipment here. I can put splints on the broken bones, but that's about it."
You find Lieutenant Nimjey organizing the cargo hold from a chaotic pile of luggage and duffel into something everyone will be able to sleep in. "The commander and I are setting off to investigate the old colony site," you say. "Have we found any food or water?"
"Not much," Nimjey says. "You might want to check with Lieutenant Oviedo-Nandez over there."
He points the engineering team that had been traveling to their new assignment on the Khubu homeworld. They are now systematically combing through the contents of the cargo bay looking for anything that might be useful. You approach Oviedo-Nandez and explain to him what you're looking for.
"Food?" he says. "I hope you like NutriRations. My man Chief Ibanz here had a small stash in his bag that he was saving for a rainy day. He would be honored to share them with you and the commander. Isn't that right, Ibanz?"
"Honored, sir," Ibanz says, never looking up from his work.
"Water?" Oviedo-Nandez continues. "We're not doing so well there. I came across a total of four bottles that made it out of the ship. That's it--not even four full liters to split between everyone here. Take them. If you're hiking across the desert so you can call home, you're going to need them. Around here, they're just going to breed resentment."
The third member of the team, Chief Gunder, speaks up. "Here's a plasgun, sir. That might be useful."
Oviedo-Nandez puts these meager supplies in a pair of rucksacks for you, and then throws in a couple jackets and a single handlight pulled out of someone's duffel bag.
"So far this is it," he says. "Sorry I'm not much of a quartermaster, but mostly what we've been finding are spare uniforms, family photos, musical instruments. Apparently no one on this flight was preparing for a wilderness backpacking trip."
"We'll take what we can get," you say.
"Just remember that people will be relying on you," he says. "We may have survived the crash, but keeping alive in a desolate wasteland is a different thing."