Faust juked the controls left then right. They’d missed that last shot from the Vulcan cannon but she’d never be able to dodge another one. From behind her she could hear the captain calling out information. The second shot was rapidly closing the distance between the two ships. Everyone on board was counting on her. What could she do? Blow a seal! If she blew the airlocks on decks four and eight it might just give the ship enough lateral push to avoid the shot. There were probably at least half a dozen or so crewmen on those decks but what options where there?

Her fingers danced over the controls, her hands felt so light, as if there was no substance to them. She hesitated for just a moment but then pushed the final button. The seals popped open and air, as well as seven unknowing crewmen, quickly rushed into the vacuum of space. Faust felt the ship lurch around her and she swore that she could feel the rush of air, but that was impossible. The cockpit was sealed off from those decks. Then the explosion.

She awoke with a start as did the doctor. Instinctively they clutched at each other.

“What the hell was that?!” she screamed over the howling rain and wind. She then noticed that water was seeping into the tent. “Doctor?”

He held tight but did not answer. Quickly she fumbled around for the torch and pressed the button to turn it on. She gasped as only inches in front of her face the doctor was clutching at his neck with his left hand, blood pouring out from between his fingers. The scouter had been hit by lightning! It was apparent that a piece of shrapnel had ripped through the tent mere inches from her face and hit poor Doctor Ramus in the throat. Without hesitation she ripped at the bottom part of her shirt until she’d freed a large piece of cloth and pried the doctor’s fingers loose so she could press it against the wound. He cooperated as best as could be expected for someone with such an injury.

They had no way of communicating with the ship. The doctor had lost a lot of blood and was losing even more and to make matters worse they were once again getting wet. They also no longer had any kind of shield against the lightning.

“Please just hang on doctor.” Emily pleaded, “I swear I will get you back to the ship. This is all my fault, I should have told you no when you asked to go on this damned fool expedition.”

He did his best to shake his head and he reached up and brushed some of the hair from her face, as if to comfort her.

The rest of the night she held him tight, trying to keep pressure on his wound. He started to shake as the morning hours closed in. She knew that he was in deep trouble but there was nothing she could do. He would die in her arms and her career with the Service would be over. How would she live with herself for what she had done?

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Immediately following breakfast, which had been served earlier than usual, Tarsik had Ansul round up Jones and Fizril in the loading bay.

“You know the situation, Faust and Doctor Ramus have gotten themselves stuck up a damned tree a few klicks from here and we’ve got to ride in and save them. The doctor is injured and they’re both likely dehydrated and quite worn out from the elements. Jones...”

The crewman snapped to attention, for once it looked as though he hadn’t been up all night drinking, though he was every bit as scruffy and unshaven as usual.

“As I have recently come to discover you are a crack shot, that might come in handy. You’re coming along. Fizril,” he addressed the big cat who in turn bowed his head slightly out of respect, “you seem like you might come in handy in a fight. You any good with a pistol?”

“Yes sir.” he looked over his at crewmate, “Perhaps not as skilled as Crewman Jones but I can hit a moving target.”

“Good, you’re with me as well. Ansul, do you think your teams can spare you for a few hours? I always feel better with you covering my ass.”

“They should be okay sir. They know their assignments.”

Just then Ansul’s tele-wave broke in, it was Herschel. “First Officer Ansul can you please report to the cockpit. It’s urgent.”

Tarsik nodded.

“Be right up Junior Pilot.” and with that he headed for the access tube.

Tarsik continued his briefing, “Expedition gear gentlemen, it’s hot out there and we need some decent protection from the elements. I want each of you packing MU-9 stunners as well as your standard pistols. Just in case this really is Earth of the past we don’t want to kill too many things and risk messing up the future...if that’s even how it works.”

“I took the liberty of charging up that portable force-shield of yours Captain.” Jones stated.

“Thank you Crewman Jones. Now get your gear and be ready to leave in twenty.”

“Aye sir.” they both responded.

A few moments later, as Captain Tarsik was slipping on his expedition jacket his tele-wave chirped. “Captain this is First Officer Ansul. You may want to come up here as soon as possible.”

The urgency in the Martian’s voice was quite apparent. He darted down the access tube and made it to the cockpit in record time.

“What is it? You re-establish communication with the scouter?” deep down he knew that wasn’t the case. Whatever the news was it was bad.

“Negative.” Ansul replied without looking over from his console. “Going by the last vid frame that it sent back to us I’d say it got struck by lightning. It’s either in a million pieces or at the very best simply inoperable. This,” he paused to sigh, “is a different batch of news. Good and bad I suppose. Which do you want first?”

Tarsik shrugged, “I could use some good news.”

“Well...you know how we’re stuck on this planet?”

“Yes...” the captain acknowledged suspiciously.

Ansul turned and cracked one of his smiles that signified he was about to say something terrible but in a humorous fashion. “We won’t be for much longer. Long range scanners are online and we picked up this.” he flipped a few switches and a familiar image appeared on one of the nearby screens.

“Comet?” Tarsik asked.

“You betcha. Big bastard too. To make matters even worse it looks like it’s going to impact about 300 kilometers from where we’re currently stuck in the mud.”

“How long?” Tarsik asked, letting his hopes sink visibly. He then remembered that Herschel was watching and corrected his expression to one of staunch optimism.

“Here’s the fun part…three days.”

The captain hit his hand against the pilot’s chair. “Then we have got to think of something Mr. Ansul.” he paused for a moment to think, “In light of this I want you to remain with the ship and get those repairs done as fast as possible.”

Ansul nodded.

“When I get back I expect some kind of option for getting this ship righted, even if we find some miracle power source we’re not going anywhere with the Honshu on her side.”

“The solar collectors will be going outside today, but if we’re incredibly lucky we’re looking at charging one one-hundredth of a percent of the ship’s batteries in a single day. That’s not going to cut it. As for righting the ship we’ve pored over dozens of ideas and nothing seems to be workable but we’ll keep trying Harry.” he paused and let his gaze wonder off, “I’ll think of something. Just go get Faust and the Doctor. This place won’t beat us.”

Tarsik placed his hand on his old friend’s shoulder, “I have every confidence in you. Do the impossible Ansul, save all of our asses.” he then turned to Herschel, “Junior Pilot. You’ve got some medic training correct?”

“Uh...very basic sir. No more than First Officer Ansul here.”

“That’ll do, get to the loading bay and suit up, expedition gear, you’re with me.”