The 12th Fleet: Starbase Valhalla

Fiction ~marooned
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Author:  vonVanir [ Sun July 27th, 2014 7:45 am ]
Post subject:  Fiction ~marooned

This is my death. I've walked alone for months now in this desert of theirs. The sting of an endless hot breeze has cracked my skin and ripped at my eyes for long enough.
Two weeks ago today was to be my rescue, my reprieve from this unending lament. Yet no transport responds to my hails. 72 days ago a Bolian freighter was in range and told me they notified Starfleet of my location and informed me of the rescue date. God I wish they had left a signal beacon.

I have exhausted my water supply and the water recycling environmental suit has reached its end use. I have decided to leave. The mirage space suit can sustain me for three days in open space, but I do not know if my body can handle the stresses of a launch in the pod. They were not designed for this. The inertial dampeners are unrepairable as is the shield array.
Math is failing me and my thoughts are scattered. I am guessing i will either explode in a fountain of escape pod shrapnel, the heat from the thrusters will melt my feet off, or I will reach a suborbital altitude and then fall to my death back to this hell. Who designed the auto guidance systems of this death pod?
I suppose I should be grateful for the wide array of survival gear jammed into it. The outcast model pod is badly damaged and I have somewhat recharged her impulse engine with what was left of my phaser rifle. That is where my brain has reached it's end. If I am to die I will do it fighting.

Sent from my iPhone while exploring Earth

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