LtCmdr Sky Blake, "The Rangers." (Part 4)
Deliera Jay
The conversation with Caide had dissolved into action plans and how they intended to leave Kidman—since neither of them were keen on ignoring Largew’s request for help.
“Just do a night patrol for now,” Caide had said. Blake wasn’t so sure it was worth it. Why would someone sabotage a water reclamator when two Starfleet officers had just shown up at the settlement? That seemed ill-advised and illogical, a stupid choice for anyone with a brain—because as if Largew didn’t know someone was actively sabotaging the water reclamators, and hadn’t mentioned this to the Starfleet officers? Why take the risk to do it and be caught by one of them?
But she stayed up well into the morning hours, when the temperature had gone from searing to freezing at a pin drop. She was an ever dutiful ranger standing in the communications array that Tristam Core had set up a year ago now, using its sensor logs to keep track of movement around the water reclamator.
Though it’d been scorching hot during the day, the temperatures at night in this coms array dropped well below any temperature Blake was comfortable with. Condensation grew on the windows, puffs of her own breath visible. She was about to throw in her hat before she shivered in here, when she saw it.
A blip on the sensors.
Unbelievable.
She dashed out the door of the comm array, racing down the three flights of stairs.
Some brave person was nearby the water reclamators at this dastardly hour. Who’d have thought someone would actually have the nerve to pull off another sabotage right under the noses of two Starfleet officers.
The water reclamators were large devices, but they were also rather fragile. They stood at about her height, with what Blake could only describe as an inverted umbrella sitting atop them. They're designed to soak moisture in from the air—and for the most part, they did an excellent job when the ‘umbrella’, created with materials surprisingly difficult and time-consuming to replicate, wasn’t being ripped apart. Their fragility would have been fine, except Tristam likely hadn’t envisioned colonists actively causing them harm.
There in the cover of darkness, the only illumination coming from the main drag of Bupirninyirring in the distance, was a humanoid figure standing directly underneath the reclamator.
Blake: Stop what you’re doing and turn around.
She clicked on her wrist flashlight and shined it at the figure. She didn’t recognise the male that stood at roughly her height, short but shaggy dark hair unfamiliar.
The man turned, raising his hands—one of which held a pocket knife he would have been enough to destroy this reclamator.
Blake: Drop the weapon.
The man’s eyes closed.
Settler: I just want to get us off this planet.
Blake: I said drop the weapon.
He complied, his hand opening. The knife fell to the ground with a soft plonk. Blake sauntered up to him, kicking the weapon away as she did so, and grabbed him by the shoulder of his jacket.
Settler: We need to get off this planet!
Blake: What you need is to talk to Largew.
Tbc . . .
LtCmdr Sky BlakeStarfleet Ranger
USS Veritas
C238803SB0