Personal Log, Stardate 510809.07

[Cmdr JFarrington 0]

Personal Log, Stardate 5108090.7

Cmdr JFarrington, MD

USS Manticore NCC 5852-A

Andromeda Galaxy

 

The situation wearied her, though she knew not why. Life on this planet wouldn’t be any different here than it would be on Earth or any of a hundred other planets in the Milky Way galaxy. As far as she could see there was plenty of food and water – certainly enough to sustain them for a lifetime if need be. During her tenure on Manticore she had experienced more stressful situations; traveling through time came to mind. There was no psychological reason she could think of that would make her feel on edge, and there was no physical reason – at least one that wasn’t showing up at the moment.

 

Jami put aside her work to stand, stretch, and take a deep breath, trying to shake an intermittent headache she attributed to her stooped posture. Somehow camp stools from the Chimera just didn’t measure up to the ergonomics of her bridge chair. Heck, even a box from the cargo bay would have given her more support. No matter. A twist-bend to the right with one hand on her lumbar and the other over her head gave her back a crack all the way up. She breathed a contented sigh then took a moment to watch and listen.

 

For the past three hours Jami had been so busy collating data that she had not taken time to allow the abject beauty of this place sink in. Escher had indeed chosen the most inviting side of the planet. Chimera and Cerberus had landed on opposite sides of a beautiful lake, within shouting and walking distance of one another. By any measure, the place was beyond ideal; it was incredibly beautiful, and not just in a visual sense. This planet had a feel about it, a peaceful feel, a wondrous feel. And she couldn’t shake the feeling they were not alone, that this place was filled with some kind of sentient life that would help them, guide them, give them comfort.

 

Ridiculous, she thought, picking up her data padd and browsing its contents. No evidence of sentient life. Everything from microbes to large avian species, none of them sentient. She gave a sigh, tucked the padd into its case, shouldered it and began a long, leisurely walk towards camp. They had potable water, the most important find. They’d also discovered medicinal plants, a few edible leaves and tubers, and some plants they desperately needed to avoid. Ensign Roberts had a nasty rash covering most of her body. She had leaned against a tree before checking it with her tricorder. Lt J’lr had succumbed to temptation and smelled a beautiful flower; he probably wouldn’t be able to smell for a week.

 

Steep learning curve.

The scent of roasting meat met Jami as she entered Chimera’s camp. As promised, Faldek and Pilot had smeared mud from the lake over their bodies to hide their scents and give them camouflage. Then they had gone into the forest and had brought back dinner. The shear size and quantity, however, was a bit daunting. Several fires had been built to accommodate the divided 400+ pound animal. Spits turned and sparks flew as personnel clad in under-tunics fed the fires with deadfall from the underbrush. On the far side of the encampment Jami spied Faldek and Pilot in the midst of a group, obviously retelling their tale of conquest with animated gestures and not a few sound effects. She’d hear it soon enough. The simple presence of campfire and roasting meat had done more to cure the crew’s depression than months of counseling, Jami realized.

 

She waved at several who called out as she approached. Lt “Merc” Mercussion tugged on Jami’s arm as she passed and pulled her into a crouch. Merc had dug a pit, lined it with heavy stones, heated them with coals from the “beast roast,” and was baking tubers. Merc described in great detail how she’d done this with her parents on camping trips. Jami had to admit this was a great diversion, something the entire crew needed, not just those planetside.

 

She glanced skyward hoping to catch a glimpse of Manticore in low orbit. Transporting some of their camp fare to the ship was out of the question, even though the rest of Manticore’s crew would appreciate a “home-cooked” meal. Transport = energy consumption = bad idea. “Use it, lose it” was the current motto. They had to remember that, as much as this planet seemed like home, it wasn’t.

 

Margaux’s parting words, Some will always survive, plagued her thoughts, but Margaux was right. In her optimism, Jami had vowed that they would all survive, they would all return home, no matter how long it took. It was an unrealistic statement bordering on naiveté. All would not survive. Some would survive. At least they all had a good start.