Story adapted from a one-shot request by GalacticgirlGracie
tw//graphic descriptions of injury (some of which might be reminiscent of self harm for some), gun violence, minor character death
***
Summary: You've been ship wrecked along with an away team on an alien planet known as Ravnor, home to a people known as the Raveks with technology similar to that of twenty-first century earth's. But despite your efforts to remain far from civilization, you find yourself accidentally breaking the prime directive. Chaos ensues.
***
The viewscreen in front of me flickered to life, and for the first time that afternoon, I smiled. I'd been working for hours, trying to get the damn thing to come back online, and finally, it seemed I'd been able to repair it to the point where it was fully functional. Not only was the screen working, but it seemed the rest of the systems were too. The only way to test it would be to make a personal log.
"Personal Log, Stardate XXXX.X. I'm sorry about how rushed my previous log was," I sighed. "I didn't think we'd have much longer with so much of the runabout destroyed. But Ensign Omax was able to get auxiliary power online, best he could. So now that I have a little extra power for my log, I thought I should probably elaborate a little."
I played with my hair a little, glancing around the command pit as I collected my thoughts. So much had happened—where did I even start? I supposed... well, the beginning was probably best. Wasn't it?
"As I said before—we crashed," I said. "And it was bad. Really bad. Not to say that we had a bad pilot. Ensign Omax is one of the best from the Shenipsit. But he's fresh from the Academy, and no matter how high his marks were, no one could have been prepared for the rogue Ferengi ambush. This was meant to be a training mission for him. But even when I took over the weapons array... there was little to be done. The Ferengi had accidentally damaged our engines while they were trying to frighten us with non-lethal fire, and the coolant was leaking. The warp drive had to be ejected.
"By then, the Ferengi seemed to realize how much they'd actually damaged our vessel, and took off at warp speed. But we only had impulse engines at that point. The resulting explosion of the warp core propelled us into Ravnor's atmosphere. The one we were meant to be studying on this away mission. That managed to take out our impulse, too—so that the only thing our runabout could do was steer.
"So what did we do? Well, the best we could. Fortunately, navigation was still functional—as functional as it could be, anyway. So we steered ourselves in the direction of a boreal forest towards the northern pole, far from any civilization of the Ravek people. I suppose it's possible that the Raveks saw the blaze of the shuttle... but even if they did, they probably just thought it was a shooting star of sorts. What concerns me right now is how we're going to survive.
"The replicator was destroyed, so we have no food or water on hand at the moment. Doctor Bashir and Commander Ryan are out searching for water, since that's our first priority. I don't know how, or if we're going to be able to purify it, but... well I don't want to think about that right now. Ensign Omax and Lieutenant Dalton are gathering firewood for sundown. We're lucky we managed to land during the northern pole's autumn season rather than winter, but it's still quite cold, and nightfall is going to make things much worse.
"I'm meant to be holding down the fort... but there's not much to do really. I feel useless. I've tried to get the impulse engines back online, but they were so wrecked from the explosion I don't think it's going to be possible. We're lucky it's a M class planet, but I think we're going to be stuck here for a while."
I sighed softly, and my recording fell into a lull as I tried to sort through all the thoughts in my head. That was it, really. Well, except for my injury. I grimaced at the reminder and I looked down at my arm that was covered in bandages, before lifting it up to show the computer.
"My arm got messed up, too. A bulkhead split during the crash, and I lifted up my arms on instinct to protect my head. The metal carved up my inner forearm, down the river. Then as it fell over and began to crush me it sort of pulled up the skin and... severed it in another direction... but I don't want to get too graphic. Thinking about it makes me shiver."
The rest of the memories flashed through my thoughts and I tried not to think about it. I got trapped under the rest of the bulkhead, and it took Lieutenant Dalton a couple minutes to get me out. I was losing so much blood, by then... I'd nearly bled out. But Doctor Bashir fixed me up with a hypospray to clot the blood, a weak dermal regenerator to seal the cut, and some linens he'd pulled off of his own uniform.
As I shook my head to clear myself of the memories and focused on my current surroundings instead, I realized that I could hear the sound of footsteps approaching outside of the runabout. My face brightened at the distraction.
"It sounds like someone's coming back. I'll end the log here," I said quickly, and I smiled weakly at the camera. "I guess I'm just glad I'm still alive. Lieutenant [Y/N] out."
I ended the personal log, turned off the computer to preserve our auxiliary power in case we got in a dire situation, and I headed towards the entrance of the runabout to greet whoever had come back. It felt a little early, as I wasn't expecting them to get back until sunset, but I supposed this was good. Either one of the teams had found enough firewood, or we'd already found water.
Oddly enough, though, when I reached the busted open door there was no one to be seen. I looked around our makeshift campsite and squinted curiously. I'd definitely heard footsteps, there was no doubting that.
"Hey, who's back?" I asked, and when I didn't get a response, I decided to explore. Unfortunately, it didn't even occur to me that something more insidious might be going on. As I made my way around the runabout, circling the craft to see if for some reason they'd gone around the back, I suddenly found two short humanoids, green, half my size and covered in a layer of leaves, blinking back at me. I inhaled sharply and began to step back. Raveks. The prime directive flashed through my head and I wanted to melt into the ground or run away, but unfortunately, that wasn't an option. They'd already seen the craft. And worse yet, it didn't look like they were going to let me escape.
One was equipped with a firearm reminiscent of those used on early twentieth century earth. I recognized it as a violent weapon, made only to kill, and slowly, I raised my hands in acquiescence. I was hardly going to let them murder me in cold blood.
"I told you, Falk. They're different," the one with the firearm hissed. The universal translator could often warp things, especially with species we'd never had direct contact with, but I could tell there was fear in its voice. Fear and firearms did not mix well. "It wants to hurt us!"
"I don't!" I said quickly, and they both seemed shocked that they could understand me. "I don't want to hurt you. And I don't want you to hurt me. We can talk about this. There's no need for a weapon."
"It lies..." the one with the firearm grumbled, but the other, more level headed Ravek placed a hand on the other's shoulder.
"We shouldn't hurt it yet. Let's take it back to the facility. Find out its intents, where it came from. Then we can discuss what to do with the rest of them," the second one said softly. My eyes widened. So they knew there were more of us.
"The rest of us?" I asked, uncertain. There were five—but I wondered how many those two thought there were.
"Never mind that," the second one said, giving me a foul look. He quickly rubbed his hands together and then thrusted his palms in the direction of my face. A cloud of white spores shot out from his fingertips and obscured my vision. The dust made me cough and I suddenly found it hard to keep my eyes open. At first I thought it was an irritant, but then, too late, I realized that I wasn't keeping my eyes shut because of small particles accosting my corneas. No, instead it was because I simply didn't have the energy.
I could feel my systems begin to depress, and before I knew it, I was no longer able to keep my head or my body up. Soon I'd fallen to the ground—and after that, it seems unconsciousness had taken any other memories.
***
I awoke in a lab filled with obnoxiously bright UV lights. I almost groaned when the light hit my irises, but instead I just grunted in pain. At the sound of my voice, however, I heard something shift on the other side of the room and scuttle towards me. Once I had regained my vision, I realized it was the second Ravek from earlier.
"You are awake," it observed. I blinked slowly, trying to understand the situation and it seemed confused by my grogginess. Perhaps the Ravek didn't experience such things. "The spore powder doesn't normally make people sleep for so long. I thought we might have killed you." I went to stand before my limbs strained against a fibrous rope, and then I realized I was immobilized. They'd bound me to this chair. My expression went foul.
"Well, thankfully you didn't," I snapped. "Let me go. Would you hold another one of your people this way? I am sentient, just like you are."
"You speak big words, but you are different," the Ravek asserted. "You could be dangerous."
"No. It would be abhorrent for us to hurt you," I said. The Ravek still seemed suspicious.
"You lie. You came in a blazing fireball from the sky," he growled. "You must be from space. An alien."
"Alien?" I scoffed. What an antiquated word. But I opened my mouth to speak again, coming up with a lie. "We came from the northern pole. Just because we look different from you doesn't mean that we're aliens."
"No one lives on the poles," the Ravek growled. "How can we trust you when you continue to lie? Tell me, what is your true intent here on this planet?"
I opened my mouth to respond, but then, realizing I may give away more information, I clamped my mouth shut. I didn't want to accidentally violate the prime directive more than I already had.
"Speak, alien, or I'll get Leek. He is not so merciful," the Ravek snapped, and the leaves covering his body rustled with his threat. I swallowed. I didn't want him to get Leek—assuming that was the Ravek who had been holding the firearm. But I refused to divulge the information. The Ravek watched my face curiously until he realized I wouldn't tell him what he wanted. This made him snarl at me and turn away, before exiting the room and leaving me alone for a moment.
In the meantime my eyes shifted around my surroundings. It looked almost like... a lab, of sorts. The chair they'd tied me to had a little give to the back, though I couldn't quite manipulate it. It looked like it was meant to be a modifiable operations table, one for someone much shorter than me, naturally. The room itself, however, looked bizarre. It was layered with bright, UV lights, and I couldn't see a switch to turn them off for the life of me. Some of the walls were lined with steel tables. But other than that, the room was fairly empty. The only other piece of furniture was a stool sitting in front of me. I couldn't for the life of me figure out the room's purpose, or even more importantly, where they'd brought me.
I was startled when I heard the door open once more, and this time, the Ravek returned with his companion. Leek wasn't holding a gun this time, but he was equipped with a short, stubby blade much to my chagrin. He certainly liked his weapons.
"So, Falk has told me you weren't talking," Leek snarled. Right, the other's name was Falk. Were this not a first contact situation, I would have spat on him. "Let me make this very clear. I'll give you five minutes to divulge everything about your mission and where you came from. And if, by the end of those five minutes, I'm not satisfied? You're going to start finding yourself losing digits."
My eyes widened and I tensed my fingers. How I hated the prime directive. At the threat of mutilation, I would have gladly explained our mission here. I wouldn't be threatening Federation security, or divulging any Starfleet secrets. But I swore an oath to Starfleet to uphold that directive. I didn't want to tamper in their culture... and telling them more about my people would be the ultimate tampering, wouldn't it? The very fabric of their society could crumble at the knowledge that they were being watched by "aliens." Violence could ensue as they vied for power, in search of any defense against a galactic organization they deemed a threat.
"Then cut them off," I whispered, though my voice wobbled. "I know very little about you. But to tell you would be catastrophic. I can sacrifice my own fingers, and my own life, to keep your society from destroying itself."
"You speak noble words, but they ring hollow," Leek snarled, and suddenly grabbed my jaw so that I was looking into his eyes. "You won't manipulate me to keep you from spilling your secrets." I stared back coldly and remained tight lipped. "So. You've chosen pain, then." Leek lifted his stubby dagger and dragged a finger across the blade to check its sharpness. Then, he began to poise it over my hand... before he had to pause.
The shrill cry of an alarm sounded in the room and I wrenched my head back in pain. I wanted to cover my ears with my hands, but of course, they were bound. The Raveks, however, did not seem so bothered by the decibel or pitch of the alarm.
"A fire in the lab," Falk said, looking shocked. "We have to contain it."
"You go," Leek said, staring at me with hostile intent. "I'll interrogate her."
"I can't contain it on my own, Leek," Falk snapped. "Leave her. We'll have time later."
Leek growled quietly, as if trying to intimidate me into spilling information, but only for a moment. He cast his blade onto the side table for later and then followed Falk briskly out of the room. My eyes travelled nervously around the walls, looking for some sort of escape. If I could just get to that blade, I could cut the sinews tying me down. It was unlikely that I'd find an escape before they caught me, but I could at least try. And the knife was a weapon. I could defend myself if need be.
As I was working out a way to grab hold of the knife or wriggle out of my constraints, the door suddenly burst open and I yelped in fright, assuming Leek had returned. But to my delight, it was someone much taller. Someone wearing a uniform like mine. Lieutenant Dalton.
"Dalton!" I sighed in relief. "Quick, there's a knife on that table—cut me loose!" I nodded at the table where Leek had left the knife, and Dalton nodded quickly, retrieving it and cutting off my restraints. I massaged my wrists once they were free and looked nervously at him.
"I don't know where we are, or how you found me, but I don't care. I'm just glad you did," I sighed. "Please tell me you know a way out."
"Yes. Follow me," Dalton said quickly, and he led me out of the room. It led into a long hallway with fewer, but still pulsing UV lights. "We're in a Ravek underground research lab. We thought it was safe to crash where we did because we didn't pick up life signs on scanners. It was too far underground. But they have a lift up to the surface. In the main entrance."
"But you found me," I observed. Dalton nodded.
"We picked up traces of your DNA leading towards to cave. Doctor Bashir pieced it together when he noticed a pattern in the rock face meant to look organic, but with an artificial repetition of divets," Dalton explained. "Then, after scanning the lab's systems, we devised a way to cause a distraction. After setting off that false alarm, the rest of the away team should be safe waiting in the cave."
"Good," I sighed in relief. I went along with him without anymore questions, and once he'd brought me through a maze of hallways, we found ourselves in the main hall with the lift up to the surface. With the alarm ringing in our ears we went on, and it seemed like we'd managed to get out safely. But the question was—where would we go now? The lift opened up into a brown colored cave, like Dalton said. But I didn't see the other officers immediately.
"You can come out," Dalton said. "It's me."
Commander Ryan's head poked out from a rocky protrusion that had almost blended into the wall, and she was followed by Bashir and Omax.
"Thank god you're alive," Ryan sighed, dusting herself off. "Have you been hurt?"
"No, I'm fine," I said, omitting how Leek had nearly started cutting my fingers off. I'd save it for the log.
"Then come on—we need to get going," she said, heading towards the mouth of the cave. "We need to head back to the runabout and figure out what we're going to do about this situation."
"They know the location of the runabout," I said quickly. "They'll find us."
"Maybe. But somehow I doubt they'll approach if we take shifts on watch duty with phasers at the ready," Ryan explained. I nodded and followed her, knowing better than to question orders.
But unfortunately, we didn't get very far.
The cave opened up to a clearing in the woods, and just as we reached the edge of the trees, I heard a loud popping sound. At first I was confused as to what it could be, until I heard a grunt and I looked behind me. Ensign Omax, who'd been bringing up the tail end of the group, stared with a shocked expression before falling to the ground. Behind him were the Raveks. And one was holding a firearm.
As the popping of bullets continued, we sprinted towards the cover of the woods with Bashir and Commander Ryan reaching the trees before Dalton and myself. But just as I reached the edge of the forest, Dalton stumbled and fell. I hesitated and turned around, wanting to help—a dumb move. Of course, there was another popping noise, and I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. I looked down, shocked—it barely hurt at first. But that was before my body had registered the wound, and I fell onto my back.
In the brief moment where I was on the ground next to Lieutenant Dalton, I realized that he wasn't moving much. His back was littered with bloody holes and he was wheezing for breath. In the split second I had to assess the situation, I realized he wouldn't be with us much longer. So as the bullet in my stomach began to burn, I reached for his phaser and set it to maximum stun.
Before I had time to use it, however, I felt someone yank me behind a tree at the edge of the clearing. It was Commander Ryan, I realized once I looked up at her face. I glanced behind me as well only to see Julian hiding behind one of the trees with a tricorder in hand. Waiting for orders, I guessed. I tried to sit up, to get off a phaser blast, but when the Commander noticed my effort she put a firm hand on my shoulder, as if telling me to stay down.
"You're in no condition to fight these lunatics," Ryan said, tensely but without ill intent. Normally I would have been hesitant of her calling a new species "lunatics," but then I remembered we were being fired on, and I didn't care.
"Then you do it," I said, handing her the phaser. She gave me a sturdy nod and took it from my hand. I winced once I got into a more relaxed position. I wasn't going to be much help in this fight, and I hated that. But the Commander was right.
Quickly, she ducked out from behind the tree and fired the phaser in the direction of one of the Raveks. Though I couldn't see much through the brush, I heard their iconic hiss before they went down. She must have hit one of them.
"The other one found something to hide behind," Ryan mumbled, ducking behind the tree again. I didn't respond, as I felt the strength slowly seeping from my body, but I heard her. "[Y/N]. You still with me?"
"Y-yes," I responded, my voice weak. The burning sensation in my torso was indescribable. Phaser burns were one thing, but they were manageable. I could see why we got rid of guns so long ago. They were so... inhumane.
As Commander Ryan looked for an opening, I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye and my gaze shifted to the right. It was Bashir, dodging in and out between trees and under the brush. At first I thought he was being stupid. Why was he drawing attention to himself when he didn't have a weapon? Then, it dawned on me that he was headed in our direction.
"[Y/N]," Bashir hissed, several feet away. "I need you to put pressure on that wound."
"Pressure?" I asked, wincing at the thought. It already hurt like hell.
"I know it hurts," he said in a surprisingly calm voice, "But you've already lost too much blood today."
As painful as the idea sounded, I nodded, and pressed down on the hole with my strong arm. I was feeling a little lightheaded from all of the blood loss, both from earlier and now, and as a result I didn't feel like I was doing much, but I believed him.
"I can't get a lock on the bastard," Ryan muttered, peering out to shoot again in its general direction. But as she did so, I heard a whizz and a cracking noise, as well as sharp splat. Suddenly Commander Ryan fell backwards, her eyes and mouth wide open in shock. On her forehead was a red, bloody crater.
I looked up at Doctor Bashir, desperately wanting some sort of confirmation that he could save her—but his expression only filled me with dread. From the way he was looking at her body, she was already dead.
"Oh... my god," I whispered, looking down at the body and grabbing her hand. Bashir's face contorted into a sour rage and he made the sprint towards the brush where I was, picking up the phaser and firing in the direction of the Ravek.
The proceeding sound that filled the area could have been equated to a snake being severed by a shovel. The hiss was so deranged and angry that it left a mark in my mind, something that could be replayed for days on end. And yet, after the sound had played out, Bashir's tense physique began to relax.
"It's down," he whispered, then looked at me, his expression softening. "I'm going to check on Omax and Dalton. I promise I'll be right back."
At that, he darted back into the clearing and I worked on my breathing. He didn't take long though. It only took him a minute to come back. I looked at him with a pale face, but not just because of the blood loss.
"They're dead," he said softly, giving me the news I was dreading.
"We all survived the runabout crash," I said quietly, bitterly. "Against all odds. And then, more than half of us get killed by primitive creatures with twenty-first century technology?"
"I know," Bashir said quietly, kneeling next to me. "We need to get you back to the crash site. I'd get you a cot but I don't think we have time."
"You want me to walk?" I asked, dreading the answer, but to my surprise he shook his head.
"No. I don't want you to pass out," Bashir said. "I'm going to carry you."
"Carry?" I asked, dreading the idea. But I knew there was no hope of transporting me, and the burning pain in my abdomen outweighed any embarrassment. "Okay. Okay... yes. If you think it's necessary."
"I do," Bashir sighed, and he bit his lip. "This is going to hurt. But keep putting pressure on it." I nodded as he slid his hands under my body, propping up my head against his upper arm, and then began to lift me up. My muscles tensed and my bullet wound cried out in pain, sending hot fiery shocks throughout my abdomen. I whimpered, inadvertently pressing my face into the cloth of the Doctor's uniform in an effort not to scream.
"Stay with me. I know it hurts. You're doing well," he insisted as he began to navigate through the forest. "Keep pressure on it."
"Yes sir," I said softly, realizing now that not only was he the chief medical officer on the away team, but technically, he was my commanding officer.
"Before we get to the camp, are you feeling any nausea? And is the area you're applying pressure to becoming rapidly enlarged?" Bashir asked.
"No to both," I grunted. "But it feels like my entire stomach is on fire."
"That's to be expected. Good. It sounds like you might not have internal bleeding," he explained. "Now, do you think you could count to ten if I asked you?" I nodded, before remembering he might not see the motion and I did as he asked.
"Good," he sighed. "The wound might be mostly superficial. I just need to remove the bullet and... make sure you don't lose any more blood. You're still applying pressure?"
"Yes," I said, though it was labored.
The doctor continued to engage me as we approached the campsite, and while the jostling was nearly unbearable, we were by the wrecked runabout before long. I wondered briefly, where he planned on setting me down. We'd done inventory earlier, and both my quarters and the infirmary were blocked off by wreckage and debris.
"Where are you going to treat me?" I asked weakly, my voice barely above a whisper. He sighed as he stepped onto the runabout.
"My quarters. My bed isn't a biobed, but it'll have to do," he explained. I bit my lip but I didn't argue. It was probably the most comfortable of options, at least, and I knew I didn't have the energy to argue. Once Bashir got there, he gently set me down on the bed and then retrieved a medical bag from the desk in the room.
"I'm afraid I can't give you any anesthesia," Bashir said. "I don't have any in this bag. I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt a lot."
"Sounds great," I muttered sarcastically. At that, he brandished some surgical scissors from the bag and began to cut off my uniform in the area of the bullet hole. Once he'd exposed enough of my lower abdomen, he reached back into his medical bag to set up an assortment of items by his bedside. The first he picked up was a small white bottle and a pad of gauze, soaking the gauze with the liquid in the bottle and then swiping it over the wound. I cringed at the sensation of him pulling at my skin and aggravating it, but that wasn't so bad.
"What is that?" I asked, gritting my teeth.
"Disinfectant," he explained, setting the gauze aside and then picking up an instrument that looked like tongs. He carefully wet that with the little bottle as well, and then rubbed some of the gauze over it. "I don't see this kind of wound often, but I'm going to need to pull it out with forceps. Do you want something to bite on?"
"Bite on?" I asked, confused.
"Right—like I said, no anesthesia. You're probably going to want to scream," he explained. I cringed, but I shook my head.
"Don't waste any time, just get it out," I said quickly, and Bashir nodded.
"It's okay if you have to make noise," he reminded me. I nodded, and then he went in with the forceps. The moment the cold, almost clammy feeling metal touched the inner walls of the bullet wound, I sucked in a gasp through my teeth. A chill so cold it felt hot ran through my body and I wrenched my head backwards against his pillow. But rather than pulling it out, his instrument just kept digging, as though he were burrowing into my stomach in an effort to reach my small intestine. After he pushed it in as far as it felt it could go I let out a miserable whimper, one that would have felt embarrassing were I not so wracked with pain.
"Almost got it," he insisted as an involuntary tear leaked from my eye, and I felt some part inside of me die. Almost? I heard the clamp of metal on metal and a most uncomfortable, painful feeling of something being sucked out of my skin ensued. However, after a few seconds of the most intense pain I'd experienced in some time, Bashir finally pulled back and lifted up the forceps in the air, bullet and all. I let out a heavy breath before closing my eyes and resting my head against the pillow. The wound still ebbed hotly, but it was no longer screaming for mercy.
"You're lucky," Bashir said, going back in with some clean gauze to disinfect the wound. "It didn't go in that far, and it didn't hit any organs."
"That was a lucky case?" I breathed as Bashir reached for the dermal regenerator that was still functional. "I haven't felt pain like that since the Academy."
"Well, good," Bashir said. "That means there's no nerve damage, and you haven't gone into shock. You took it like a champ—I'm surprised you didn't scream." A warm feeling of relief slowly seeped into my skin as the throbbing pain began to ebb and disappear. The dermal regenerator was doing its job. "But it seems they got you at an angle. If your torso hadn't been twisted just right, it might have been fatal."
"Fatal," I repeated, the word sickening on my tongue. "Well. Then you would have been left to fend on your own."
"Are you saying I'm the lucky one?" Bashir asked, a weak smile spreading across his features.
"I'm saying it would be a lot harder to survive out here on your own," I explained. "Though I'm not going to be much help in this state."
"No. You need to rest," Bashir said softly in agreement. He turned of the dermal regenerator and placed it with the rest of the medical tools. After that, he stuck a pad of adhesive gauze over the wound. "I'm going to go get the Raveks. As much as I hate it, we'll need to detain them until Starfleet can decide what to do with them."
"Detain them?" I asked weakly. "Where? Commander Ryan's quarters?" Hers hadn't been obstructed by wreckage, but it felt sick to put them in her most sacred space.
"We'll have to," Bashir sighed. "Though, I'll need to set up an artificial UV light rig. From what we understand they don't eat, but they're green because of chlorophyll in their cells. They photosynthesize."
"That explains the underground UV lights," I realized.
"Exactly. They should be knocked out for several more hours—and I have a plan."
"That's comforting," I said, not sarcastically. "What are you going to do?"
"Well... cuff them, for one. Then carry them back one at a time. Then I'm going to leave them in Ryan's quarters, set up a force field and an authentication code if we have the power."
"Okay..." I sighed softly. I didn't like the idea of him going alone, but I could hardly be of use.
"Don't worry, I'll be fine," he promised, noticing the tone in my voice. "You need to stay here. Try to fall asleep if you can. I could only regenerate some of the skin, so there is some muscle damage in your abdomen, and if you try to strain yourself too much the wound may reopen."
"I'm going to hold you to that," I said rather solemnly, and he reached out to squeeze my hand.
"I'll be back soon," he said, and then he left me, in the runabout.
Alone, gravely injured, on a hostile alien planet.
This note is probably minor, but I'm writing it anyway.
Sorry about the xs in the stardate. I'm still a bit confused about how stardates work—I have a vague idea of how they were written in TNG, so I could have in theory made a TNG style date. But there was a lot of bullshitting involved with the way the writers created them. Seriously, listen to how many times you hear sequential or repeating numbers in the early TNG episodes (like 555 or 1234). As for DS9 style stardates, well, I'm not really sure how they worked (except in that a lot of the series takes place in the 2370s). So I wanted to stick with what I know. I decided to go with an anonymous TNG style date. Just fill in the xs with whatever numbers you want I guess lol. They aren't important so long as the action takes place after the events of DS9, as most of my one-shots do.
-Alex 🥀