Survival: Part Two

Posted on Fri Jun 3rd, 2022 @ 1:54am by Lieutenant JG Damien Blackford

Mission: MISSION 0 - History Speaks
Timeline: 2394
839 words - 1.7 OF Standard Post Measure

Damien sighed as he leaned against the large rock, basking in the shade, closing his eyes for a second, allowing himself to slip down the cool, stony surface, dropping, rather unceremoniously, to the floor, his legs stretching out in front of him. Spirits. It was hot. He thought the jungle they'd been dropped in last week was bad. But right now. what he wouldn't give for the constant deluge of rain. To feel its cooling presence on his face. To wash away the grime and sweat from his body. Where did the Academy find these planets?

Opening his eyes, he squinted slightly as he looked up, the twin suns hanging ominously overhead. Much like the jungle the month before, the cadets had all been dropped at various points on the planet, given a map, and a basic survival pack, and told that their goal was simple. Reach the base camp by the end of the day. If you failed to do so, you failed the course. Seemed harsh, but it was the only way to ensure the best Officers graduated and became entrusted with the defense of the Federation.

Damien pushed himself up, forcing himself to squat slightly as he pulled the map out of his backpack and laid it on the ground in front of him. Unlike the jungle, there was no need to twist his body into strange, contorted positions to protect the paper. Simple because there was nothing to protect it from. No rain threatening to soak through the paper and make it unreadable. Not even a gust of wind that could blow it away. Spirits. What he'd do for some wind right now. Not even a strong wind. Just a small breeze. Anything that might cool him down.

More than once, he'd been tempted to open the canteen of water that he'd been supplied with, and pour it over himself. But he'd have to be crazy to do that. From what he'd seen so far, there were no water sources around, and if he wasted his water on a frivolous activity like that, he'd soon regret it. The suns overhead would quickly dry him out, and then he'd be right back where he started, only without water.

Sighing once again, he attempted to swallow, but there was no saliva in his mouth to swallow with. Flicking his tongue out, he ran it across his lips, but it proved fruitless. Without any saliva in his mouth, he might as well have been running sandpaper over his lips, for all the good it was doing him.

Pulling the canteen out of his backpack, he shook it slightly, listening to the water sloshing around. Still had about half left. Glancing down at the map, then at his compass, before squinting off into the distance, he estimated he'd probably made it about three-quarters of the way. But there was still a long way to go yet. Biting his lip, he muttered, "Screw it." To himself, before opening the canteen, taking a careful, measure gulp, letting out a soft sigh of relief. The water had long since stopped being cool, but even warm and slightly metallic tasting, it was a welcome relief.

Taking one final look at the map, he quickly folded it back up, stowing it away. But he didn't get up. For the first time in his Academy career, part of him couldn't help but think, 'How easy would it be to give up right now. All you have to do is take the transponder out of your bag, and activate it. They'll transport you away, and you can relax. Take a hot shower. Eat some proper food.'

In fact, Damien's hand was halfway to his bag, fully prepared to grab the transponder, and give up. The sun was baking him. His skin felt like it was made of clay, and was about to crack open. His throat was dry and scratchy and all he wanted was to be somewhere cool and safe. But he couldn't. His hand stopped, and dropped back to his side.

No.

He refused to give up. Not now. He'd come this far. He wasn't going to give up now, at this, one of the final hurdles. Two semesters left. That was all. Two semesters, and he'd be a Starfleet officer. The last six years had all been leading to this. All of the sleepless nights. All of the worrying about exams. Pushing himself to be the very best he could be. If he gave up now, he'd never forgive himself. He'd never be able to face his father again.

No.

Pushing himself to his feet, he grabbed his backpack and swung it onto his back. Taking a deep breath, steeling himself, he set out once more, the heat hitting him, engulfing him, as he stepped out of the shade of the rock he'd been sheltering in.

"You Can do this." He muttered to himself, repeating it, using it as a mantra as he strode off into the desert.

 

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