EPISODE 2: "SEASONS OF DISTRESS"

Written By Alex Matthews

Created by Jonathan Crosby-Bromley 
and Alex Matthews

Based on 'Star Trek' 
created by Gene Roddenberry

“Star Trek and all related marks, logos and characters are solely owned by CBS Studios Inc. This fan fiction is not endorsed by, sponsored by, nor affiliated with CBS, Paramount Pictures, or any other Star Trek franchise, and is a non-commercial fan-made film intended for recreational use.  No commercial exhibition or distribution is permitted. No alleged independent rights will be asserted against CBS or Paramount Pictures.”

Copyright (c) 2019

Produced by Sojournerverse Productions

CAST

Freddie Fox as OLISHNAVAR 'OLI' TH'DANE

GUEST CAST

Mark Hamill as GRAAV 

An old and battered Monarch-class freighter, the Winds of Andoria, manoeuvres with graceless and clumsy movements to barely avoid a barrage of deadly disruptor fire. 
It drops deeper down its z-axis, not quite fast enough to avoid scathing emerald-green energy that strikes weakening shields...

*           *           *

On the cramped, dark and burning bridge of the Winds, a lone Andorian sits at the outdated helm and navigation station. The bridge is littered with dead bodies, including an older human man in the command chair behind the helm station, a ceiling support piercing his barrel-like chest and impaling him to the seat. 
Ignoring the fires and death all around him, the young pilot just keeps working his console, knowing that those who are left alive onboard are depending on him. It's a lot to put on the shoulders of a young man who only turned 25 years old a few weeks ago. 
The failing internal comm system squawks with protest before a robust voice blasts through the bridge speakers, [Are you trying to blow us all to Hell up there, Oli?!]
Olishnavar th'Dane, or just 'Oli', to his friends, can't help but grin just a little. Even as systems explodes around them, the Winds' surly Tellerite engineer still finds time to get pissed off when someone pushes the engines too far. 
"Just trying to keep us alive, Graav," he replied through gritted teeth, as he made a deft maneuver any other vessel would have done with ease. However, as was the case often with the Winds, she protested with every inch of metal that made up her space-frame. 
Graav's bitter tone made it clear how unhappy he was with that last bit of flying, [Any more like that and whoever these bastards are, they won't need to keep shooting at us, because we'll be ripping ourselves apart at the seams!]
A sensor alarm called out for Oli's attention, his face paling and antennae quivering with shock as he reads the display. This entire time, he'd believed that the ships had just been looking to blow them out of the sky, for whatever reason. But now, he saw that they'd been herding them to this one spot.
On the main screen was an icy planet, one that reminded Oli of his far away home of Andor, even as it grew too large for the small screen to keep in it's static-ridden display. 
The Winds shook abruptly again, and as Oli scrambled to pull up the damage control reports, he could hear the screams of the engine room crew. Direct hit...

*           *           *

Smoke and fire crackling around the charred remains of its engine housing, the Winds of Andoria tumbled slowly forward as pieces of her burned and cracked hull began to peel off. 
Her attackers, their identity still a mystery, hung back and watched like ghouls. Their work was done here, there was no more need to waste their fire power.
Caught in the grip of the planet's gravity, the Winds of Andoria began to slowly fall. Unable to offer even a token measure of resistance against the inevitable...

*           *           *

It was getting too difficult to take a decent breath, Oli realized with dread. Between the smoke that filled the corridors of the burning, dying Winds of Andoria, and the failing life-support system, they were lucky for whatever air they had at the moment. 
Part of Oli's brain, the analytical side that had excelled during his time at Starfleet Academy, knew that the only reason the system hadn't given out yet was because the attack had already killed more then half of the cargo freighter's meagre crew complement. If they'd had a full personnel roster, they'd be even worse off, struggling to take even a gasp of air to keep moving down the tiny access corridor to the Winds' lone escape pod. 
To use the odd expression he'd picked up in his time on Earth, tt was a 'gift horse' whose mouth he had no desire to look into look into. Other systems - more important systems - hadn't been as fortune. 
As he finally managed to persuade the access panel for the escape pod's hatch to open, he looked down at the impressive bulk of Graav's unconscious form, being tended to by two of the other survivors of the engineering team. With a start, Oli realized he didn't know either of their names. They'd only been aboard the Winds for a week or so, signing with them at their all-too-brief layover at Deep Space Four, and Oli wasn't one to hang out in the Crew Mess longer then he needed to. 
"Get him in!" he yelled over the din of the Winds coming apart at the seams around them, "I'll program in the coordinates, then join you."
The human man nodded, then he and the Caitian woman somehow managed to lift up Graav in one swift move, before heaving him into the pod. Oli'd never met a Caitian before. He kinda wished he'd taken the time to talk to her.
Too late for regrets now.
He slapped his hand onto the panel. Saw the look of surprise on both their faces as they looked up as the inner and outer doors cycled closed. There wasn't any point in trying to explain. The door seals meant they wouldn't hear him even if he did. 
They hadn't seen that the diagnostic he'd run on the ejection systems showed an electrical surge had fried the connection between ship and pod. That the only way to launch the pod had been to do so from the access panel he'd spent the last five minutes rewiring to do just that. 
He braced himself against the bulkhead as the freighter was jostled again, by weapons fire, or by the planet's gravity pulling it down, he didn't know (or really care). Pushing off, he headed back the way he'd come, back towards the ladder to the upper decks. He wasn't going to wait and watch through the tiny port-hole as the pod's thrusters kicked in. 
Taking away the most guaranteed chance of survival he may have had...
..but not necessarily the only chance of survival.

*           *           *
The escape pod, nothing more then a small tin-can floating in the cold of space, is pushed forward as tiny exhaust jets activate. Automated manuevers keep it steadily on course, moving the pod away from the broken hulk of scrap-metal formerly known as the Winds of Andoria.
Within seconds it was free of the whirlwind of metallic fragments that had once been part of the freighter's hull. Safely out of the range of any perilous impact. 
However, it wasn't free from all the dangers around it.
The three occupants inside were helpless to do anything as a sheen of blue-white light ensnared their craft, gripping it tightly within a beam of attenuated linear gravitons.  
A beam that slowly reeled them in like fish on a hook...

*           *           *

Nononononononononono! This can't be happening!
Oli's fingers were suddenly nerveless, having only seconds before been flying over what little remained of his helm/nav console, as he watched, feeling utterly useless as the menacing form of one of their attackers streaked away with the escape pod caught in a tractor beam. 
The viewscreen fritzed and flashed with static for a brief moment, clearing up just enough that for that brief instant, Oli saw the design on the ventral hull of the ship that had captured his shipmates. Couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.
Then, the vessel jumped forward and disappeared into warp speed. Gone.
They left me to die, he realized with sudden cold clarity. They didn't need to waste time finishing me off. 
Clarity gave way to indignation. No way am I going to just sit here and wait to die! That anger pushed him forward, as he worked his console, fighting tooth and nail with it to get it working enough to reroute all ship controls to the array of panels in front of him.
The Academy had trained him well, especially for situations like this. He worked through the check-list of priorities in this particular scenario.
Item #1: Jettison all excess weight - check. One press and the cargo hold was open to space.
Item #2: Identify the best possible impact site - check. Not that he had much to choose from.
Item #3: Launch the distress buoy - check. Oli took some cold comfort knowing that with their attackers gone, they couldn't destroy the final record of the Winds' last flight.
The shock of atmospheric entry buffetted the bridge, forcing Oli to grab tightly onto his console and brace his legs against the deck to avoid being thrown from his seat. He swallowed down the lump of fear that had formed in his throat, focusing on the details.
Item #4: Divert all remaining power to reinforce the structural intregrity of the command deck, without sacrificing thrusters to guide his descent - check.
The glance at the status indicators told Oli that he'd done all he could. Now, it was all down to luck, or fate, depending on whatever it was you believed. Oli th'Dane wasn't the religious sort, much to his zhavey's disappointment, but the Winds of Andoria began to shake with enough force to make his teeth rattle, and the viewscreen lit up with fire, he still took a moment to utter a brief prayer to Uzaveh the Infinite, one of her favourite deities. 
I really hope someone up there wants to look out for me...