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[2009: SEP-OCT] Good Name for a Shuttle

Tal Tel-ar

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Good Name for a Shuttle

Pain. The first thing he felt was pain. Everything hurt. It even hurt to open his eye's. Well one eye. The other one refused to open. His head felt strange. Still opening the one eye had been a harder task than he had expected. Much harder. Not that he could see much. It was dark. The only light some sparks from some exposed wires and control panels.

For a second he felt light headed. Everything seemed to spin out of control. His mouth felt dry and he could smell something burning.

He tried to move. His leg was pinned. He could't budge what ever it was. Somehow he managed to sit up. Just doing that left him breathless and covered in sweat. He took a few minutes to catch his breath. The spinning of the room slowed and finally stopped.

Blinking he was finally able to focus. To see where he was. Around him were the shattered bodies of the rest of his squad. The shuttle they had been in was destroyed beyond repair. That was obvious to him. Not even one of those supposed engineering miracle workers from one of the larger starships could have probally fixed the thing.

A glance towards the front showed that the pilot was a lost cause. Too bad she had been friendly, with an amazing smile. For a second a lump formed in his throat. Then he shook it off and set about moveing the debrie pinning his leg. It took him a while. Especially as he obviously had some cracked ribs to go along with all the other bruses, contusions and lacerations.

Still he managed. Mind you he had to rest for a few seconds when he was done. That concerned him more than he wanted to admit. That and the wheezeing sound he was makeing while trying to breathe.

NO. He didn't have time for this. He had to check the rest of his squad. He had made it, maybe some of them had to. He forced himself to move. Slowly mind you but move he did. He had no idea how long it took. One by one he checked them all. Bad tempered Toa'xx, the scrounger Jigger, crimson skinned Din'Ov'ok and lovely Kincaide.

They were all dead. With a feeling of deep loss he closed Kincaide's eye's. He could feel himself start to lose it. He hadn't cried since he was a kid and his pet dog Bullet had been killed in an accident. He smashed his fist against the bulkhead again and again, screaming his rage into the silent interior. The echoes screamed back.

Finally he stopped. They were gone. He was alone and knowing the enemy they would soon come looking to make sure they were all dead.

He had to get his head out of his [...] and get prepared or he would join his friends. With a snarl he started to check the bodies again. Looking for anything that was still useable. It took a while. At one point he was sure that he had passed out again. He was unsure. Just he was face down on the floor and he did not remember how he got there.

He had found some stuff. From the med kit he took a hypo-spray and gave himself a small dose of adrenaline. It perked him right up and he was able to finish searching the bodies.

Then he tried to open the rear hatch. It did not respond. Not supriseing with out any power to work it. He shook his head. Their was a way to open them in an emergency... he had to think... what was it...

Then he remembered. Poping the cover on the control circutry he managed to activate the emergency release. As he did the hatch blew out, the shaped charges flipping the hatch away from the ship to land a few feet away.

As soon as he did the heat hit him, sweeping in instantly and makeing him start to sweat. Their was a glare off the rock that he could see. Obviously caused by the sun. If he was going to survive out there he would need shelter but as far as he could see the ground was rough but fairly flat. No vegetation, hills or other possible locations for shelter.

Guess he would have to improvise.


He leaned back against the hull of the ruined shuttle. So exhaused that he could barely keep his eye's open. He had used up 1 whole power cell in a hand phaser creating this shelter. Over half of it was underneath the shuttles smashed hull. That provided a welcome relief from being melted alive out in the blast furnace that was the surface of this bleak world. It was still hotter than heck but anything was better than being out there.

It also gave him space in which to store all the supplies he had been able to save. Not alot really. If he rationed the food and water he could probally survive for a week. Weapon wise he had enough firepower to hold off an army if need be.

After a few moments he forced himself to get up. It was a struggle. His body was starting to run low on energy and the heat was quickly sapping what little he had left but he wanted to make one last sweep of the interior of the shuttle and make sure their was nothing else left that he might be able to use.

As he slowly climbed up out of his shelter he suddenly lost his balance just as...


He ducked, reaching for the phaser on his belt. His cheek felt like it had been melted even thou the shot fired at him had not hit him, just come [...] close.

Weapon ready he lifted his head to take a peak and sand exploded up into the air as another shot struck the ground just in front of him.

He dropped back shakeing and curseing under his breathe. He was [...] lucky to be alive. Especially after makeing such a bone headed rank recruit move like that. As if he was going to be able to spot anything out there. Moron.

He reached over and grabbed the scanner. Activateing the 4 seperate visual scanning devices he had concealed among the rubble near his shelter and the crashed shuttle.

Slowly he checked the area. It took longer than he wanted but he spotted them. From the looks of it an entire squad of Jem'Hadar.

Now it was a waiting game.


He looked at the canteen and licked his lips. They were cracked, his mouth and throat so dry he could not remember what liguid felt like. Somehow he held off takeing a drink. It was the last of his water.

He let his eye's close. They felt scratchy.

A week. He had been able to hold them off for a week.

There had been a few times he thought he wasn't going to make it. They had almost cought him two days ago while he was napping but fortunately the last of the anti-personnel mines he had buried in the ground had been triggered by one of the sneaky [...]s.

For what seemed the hundredth time his mind drifted back. Memories sweeping over him. His childhood back home on Earth. The heat, sweating like crazy while rideing a brama bull at the local rodeo.

His father's smile when he won the junior competition. Then 2 years later when he won the seniors.

"I'm proud of you John."

At the voice he looked to the side. There was his father. That slight twist to his lips that told you he was happy. The silver gray hair cut short. Those deep blue eye's of his. Even the twinkle was there. He crouched beside him wearing that same thing he always wore. A pair of old faded blue jeans. A faded brown checked shirt, worn cowboy boots and that old battered stetson he always wore outside. In his hands he held the antique rifle that normally rested on the wall above the fireplace.

"Thanks Dad. What are you doing here?" He asked in a puzzled voice. His dad should be back on earth.

"Didn't think I would let you hold the fort all by yourself did ya."

Something about this didn't make any sense. "Dad?"


"You better get out of here dad. I'm not going to make it."

"I know son. Thats why I'm here."

"I tried dad."

"You done great son."

"Thanks dad."

The older man then looked around. When he glanced up a smile appeared on his face. As it did he jerked his thumb towards the shuttle. "At least your fighting the good fight under a proud name son."

What? He glanced up to where his dad had pointed. There it was. In big letters. Slightly damaged but still legable. USS Alamo. How had he never noticed that?

Just then his father spoke again. His voice urgent. "Here they come."

He started to reach for the phaser rifle on his lap but pushed it aside to grab 2 hand phasers instead. As he did he swallowed, amazed that he could. Blinking to clear his vision he twisted to face towards the enemy. As he did he could see his father, smile on his face lift up to open fire with his antique.

"Take that you rascals." Then he glanced over at his son. "Ready?"

"Yeah. Ready as I'll ever be."

"Good. Lets teach them a lesson." The old man said as he jumped up and started to charge towards the enemy.

"Coming dad." He said as he moved as fast as he could. He climbed up and out, almost falling down as he did. His knee slammed down onto a rock. The sudden pain flairing up his leg and makeing his eye's water.

Somehow he regained his feet, running forward fireing with both phasers as he did. The enemy were faint images, blurred by the heat.

His dad was screaming that silly old war cry he always used to open the rodeo with. For some reason it just seemed right. So he joined in.

"REMEMBER THE ALAMO!!!"..........................................

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