'fresher perspective

Posted on Sat Mar 21st, 2020 @ 8:40pm by

Mission: Cruel Meridian
Location: Shuttlecraft deGrasse Tyson, Outbound from Starbase 50, Inbound to USS Majestic
Timeline: MD 03
447 words - 0.9 OF Standard Post Measure

Shuttlecraft deGrasse Tyson
Outbound from Starbase 50, Inbound to USS Majestic

Despite continued issues with the shuttle, not the least of which was the leaking of breathable atmosphere. Ian was still managing a decent pace though. By the tricorders calculations (Ian wasn’t relying solely on the shuttle’s computer anymore) he should make it to the rendezvous point with the Majestic on time and still have a couple hours of oxygen left. Although, Ian was now navigating by the relatively limited capabilities of the tricorder and trying to reconcile that with the seemingly random readings the shuttle sometimes gave him.

He tried the comms again for the millionth time. At least one thing was consistent. Still down. The distress beacon was set on automatic though and should even for a second the comms come back online a SOS data burst would transmit.
Ian took a sip of the coffee he’d been nursing, making a face to himself. Even that was off. He got up and stretched working out some of the stiffness from a prolonged flight. Then he decided to answer the call that was inevitable after four large cups of liquid in a short time.

Ian stepped into the shuttle’s tiny fresher and splashed some water on his face before relieving himself. A second after washing his hands, looking up and sighing into the small mirror, he stepped straight into the door. Ian staggered a step back half falling/half sitting onto the toilet seat. Frustration was hitting a boiling point. Ian not so gently keyed the door controls and nothing happened. He stood and tried a few more times both vocally and manually. Of course, still nothing.

A few minutes of pounding and trying to force the door yielded nothing but still more frustration. After a loud and possibly therapeutic scream, Ian flopped back onto the seat. He closed his eyes and tried to curb his frustration and anxiety. The computer wasn’t responding to any commands so Ian lost track of time after a bit. After varying stages of pounding on the door, talking to himself, ripping apart the door controls, sulking, shaking his head and cursing Ian sat back down to actually try to come up with a plan.

After several minutes of shaking off numerous ideas, Ian though he heard something. Muffled through the door but assuredly sound. He pressed his ear to the door and strained.
His name?

Possibly, but hard to tell.

Again there was something. Definitely not his name this time.

[ …to shut…]

A loud squawking blared drowning out the rest.

[...repea…]

Squawk!

[..S. Maj…]

Another loud squawk preceded the dead silence that followed from then on.