Her muscles ached and lungs burned, but T’Lyn Kenyon ran for all she was worth. The shuttle was less than a kilometre away; she could make it, so long as the shaking ground didn’t collapse under her like it did with—
No! she scorned herself as tears cleaned the dirt and grime from her cheeks. She couldn’t think about that, not if she wanted to get off the planet and warn Starfleet. No one knew what they’d found, no one could comprehend what was coming, without the evidence in her backpack no one would believe her—she knew what her peers thought of her, politely summed up as ‘eccentric’. But redeeming herself and her credibility was the last thing on her mind, preservation of life was all that mattered, her reputation be damned!
Behind her, the screech of metal scraping against metal filled the air, her sensitive pointed ears assaulted by the piercing scream. It pushed her harder, arms and legs pumping despite her sprained ankle, her mother’s mentoring to build her mental discipline allowing her to focus beyond the pain and keep going. This dig had taken so much from her, leaving her physically battered and emotionally bruised, but with so much at stake she couldn’t give up.
Reaching the bottom of the hill on which they’d landed the shuttle, she couldn’t take the easier path they’d opted for upon arrival, instead she scrambled up the steep incline on all fours, the rough ground cutting her fingers, the gravel she dislodged slowing her progress as the dust she kicked up made her cough and gasp hard for air. She kept going, hearing the thunder-like rumbles getting louder and closer, as the hair on the back of her arms stood up, which was all the incentive she needed to move.
She threw her right arm onto the flat surface at the top of the small cliff face she’d climbed, digging her already broken nails into the ground as she hauled herself up. Arms shaking with exertion as she used what little strength she had to get onto the top of the ledge, but she didn’t pause to rest, staggering to her feet once more and stumbling to the shuttle. With a bloody finger she punched in the entry code and the aft ramp lowered. She limped aboard and through the aft compartment, set up with a bunk on one side and equipment lockers on the other, and into the cockpit. Wincing she pulled her pack off of her shoulders and set it in the co-pilot seat, no one would be needing it now, and flopped into the pilots chair. Hands trembling she powered the shuttle up, secured the rear hatch and opened up a priority one subspace channel.
“Theta Station,” she croaked out to the only Starfleet installation in the sector, “this is Doctor Kenyon, please respond.” Static filled the shuttle. “Theta Station, this is an emergency. Respond!”
Only static answered.
“Frak!” she cursed. They were jamming communications. She would have to reach the station and warn them in person.
“Computer, inform me as soon as comm channels are clear.”
“Confirmed,” the shuttle replied as she powered the engines and lifted off from the ground.
It was all down to her.
