Meanwhile...

[Chirakis 1]

Meanwhile

 

"Kraxon!"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Toss me a pouch. And the hydration unit."

 

"One steak, rare, comin' up!" A package of field rations - one step above emergency rations - lobbed from the darkened side of the narrow tunnel. A few seconds later, a young well-built human emerged from the shadows carrying a small hydration unit. He was dressed in a rumpled flight suit, the Aegis logo prominent on one sleeve.

 

"Tastes like sulag." A Talarian, a few years older than the human, palmed the pack in mid-air as he gave it disgusted look. "Mishega could've done better with supplies." His flight suit was the same, but a bit more worn than the human's. It was singed along one side and one leg bore a small tear. He leaned against an ejection seat that was propped on the tunnel wall and tore the ration pack open with his teeth.

 

"That's chicken, Weir. Tastes like chicken."

 

Weir gave a grunt. "Same thing," he said, reaching for his mess kit.

 

"Yeah, but it doesn't have the same ring to it." Kraxon knelt by the fire and tore open his package, eyed the contents suspiciously, then gave a shrug and poured them into his cup.

 

"We should check the water on this rock. Sooner than later," said Weir, taking a tentative taste of his package's hydrated contents.

 

The young human stopped stirring. "But... we'll be gone soon."

 

Weir stopped chewing and eyed the younger pilot. "And if we're not, we'll have to find other sources of food and water. These won't last forever."

 

Kraxon feigned nonchalance and they ate in silence for a few minutes, utensils clicking against cups. Between them the fire shadowed their faces, spilled patterns on the mottled tunnel walls and barely reflected in a puddle at the entrance. Outside, an occasional breeze broke the stillness of an otherwise barren asteroid.

 

"So," Kraxon eyed Weir as he shifted to stretch out on his bedroll, "how long you figure before they get us?"

 

"Supposed to be..." Weir sucked something from between his teeth as he checked the chrono on his suit, "A few more days. Mishega said to give her two seven-days."

 

"Any idea what's going down? Why all this, I mean," Kraxon answered Weir's puzzled look.

 

"Damned if I know. I just do what I'm told when I'm told. Don't ask questions. Easier - safer that way." A snap and hiss echoed off the wall, the sound of bedroll opening and inflating. Weir stashed his mess kit and stretched out facing the entrance.

 

"Afraid they'll come looking?" Kraxon chuckled, ticking his head at the opening.

 

"Who? Starfleet? Allies?" Weir's hearty laugh echoed through the tunnel's interior. "Hell, they think we're dead. They probably picked up the fighter explosions on Cardassia! Why would they come looking?" After a pause he added, "Never hurts to be cautious."

 

After some time the younger sighed. "Few more days, huh?"

 

"Few more days."

 

Another long pause.

 

"And if she doesn't come...?"

 

Weir propped himself up on one elbow. "Look. Kid. She'll be here. Trust me. She's good. Fourteen days. We got our packs, our kits, enough food for a month."

 

"Yeah, and we're on the edge of the belt, pretty much out of sensor range. They picked this rock because the composition scrambles...."

 

Before Kraxon could finish, Weir was on him. "Mishega knows where we are. She's good for her word. Trust me."

 

They locked eyes a minute. Kraxon finally repositioned himself on the bedroll.

 

"And I don't care what you say. It still tastes like sulag."