<USS Avalon> Survivors: First Night

"Tran," Mac called out, trying to inventory the last of the salvageable items 
from the pods in the fading light, "Drag the MREs over to Doc and give me a 
hand, will you?"
 
"Yes, sir," the young ensign called back dutifully, thankful for something to 
do besides sit and wait.
 
Rae stepped over with the ensign quickly, "thought you were supposed to be 
sitting down with that dermal regenerator like a good boy and letting us handle 
this," she reminded him. 
 
"Yeah, well, being a good boy was Sean’s job. Mom knew not to expect it from 
me." Mac answered, before adding seriously. "Rosas seems to think we might be 
attracting the attention of the natives. Jorgins mentioned sensing something 
malevolent close by. I want us set up and defensible before it gets too much 
darker in case any of them decide to get brave."
 
‘Got it," Rae nodded, helping him and Tran finish scrapping the Pod for usable 
items. Pitching her voice so that only Mac could hear, she asked, "How long can 
we make it out here on what we’ve got?"
 
Mac frowned, calculating carefully before answering sotto voce. "If we ration 
it carefully…a week…maybe two…"
 
"Think they’ll find us before then?"
 
Mac shook his head. "Not really." 
 
The pained and panicked screams of another young ensign behind them caused all 
three to jump. Mac reached the man one step behind Doctor Lincoln. 
 
"GET THEM OFF, GET THEM OFF," Ensign Burgess screamed, gesturing madly toward 
his legs, upon which a horde of what appeared to be large reddish colored 
cockroaches were coming up from the ground in droves to feed. 
 
"What the hell!" Mac exclaimed, trying to swat them away while lifting the man 
off of the contaminated earth. 
 
"Light…get me more lights over here…", Linc called out, noting that the closer 
Mac dragged the man toward the scavenged Pod lights, the faster the insects 
fell away. 
 
Tran appeared with a couple of hand held lanterns. Linc grabbed one and shone 
it directly upon the insects, who all scurried rapidly back toward the 
darkness. 
 
"Everyone stay close to the lights. We’ve got …problems." Linc ordered loudly, 
his stomach lurching at the site bones now completely devoid of flesh where the 
young ensign’s legs had been. "Put him down, Mac." Linc instructed quietly, 
helping to ease the young man's body back to the ground. "It’s too late."
 
Mac closed his eyes, an overwhelming sense of failure taking hold. They were 
counting on him, and he couldn't even manage to keep them safe for one night.
 
Ensign Burgess was dead.

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