Running Out of Time

Posted on Sat Nov 6th, 2010 @ 2:00pm by Commodore Samantha York

533 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Peace, or Something Like It
Location: Somewhere in New Paris, Turkana IV
Timeline: Current

ON

Samantha sat against the wall of the pit and ran a hand through her hair. Sixteen hours. They'd been there for sixteen hours. Eight without any contact at all from their captors. Not since she and the Grand Marshal pulled down their "prisoner."

A prisoner who'd given them little information and had been unconscious for the past six hours. Although he wouldn't be much use to them anyway. He had nothing of interest on his person and no real information in his head. Except that he was attached to some mercenary group who were using the inhabitants of Turkana IV as guinea pigs for some sort of experiment.

If she could get to the Calypso and search the database, she might be able to find out what was really going on here. But she only had four hours before the Coalition started an interplanetary war and unless she could get another message to Damon, that wasn't very likely. As good as he was, her one brief message didn't give him much to go on.

She had no doubt Damon would find her. The only question was, when? The thought made her chuckle. It reminded her of her first away mission on the Orion when she'd been trapped in the cave. Then the question was whether she'd be rescued before the oxygen ran out. And then it was Damon who rescued her. It seemed to be his lot in life. Poor guy. Next time, she would stay on board the Calypso -- just for him.

She had to believe there would be a next time. If their captors meant to kill them, they'd be dead by now. If only she knew what they wanted, why they'd captured her and the Grand Marshal. The peace talks were already a shambles. Could it be whatever they were testing? Were they afraid the Federation would find out what was going on? Too many questions and no way to get answers. Yet.

Sam bounced her head gently against the wall, subconsciously keeping rhythm with the Grand Marshal's snores. At least he could sleep. And asleep, he wasn't trying to wake up their friend and get more information out of him. That gave her a modicum of peace.

She wanted a computer to work with. A book to read. A PADD to play with. SOMETHING to keep her occupied. She looked at the rope. There was a lot of it left... An idea began to form. Something to keep her occupied while she thought of a way to get another message out.

She still had her boot knife. She pulled it out and cut a segment of rope. Then she separated the strands. She would make a Quipu. An ancient Incan form of communication that involved knots. She's studied it once. Knew a few basic words. She would take the time to practice. And, if their captors were watching, maybe make them curious enough to open the door.

With a small smile, she tied off the strings and began to tie an intricate series of knots. A little time, a little luck, and she'd get that second chance.


OFF

Commander Samantha York
Commanding officer
USS Calypso

 

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