Last week, on Endeavour:
We’re all thrown to the floor when the impact happens, and the alarms are going before we’re able to pick ourselves up off the ground.
Standing and shaking beer off myself, I have to wonder. If there was nothing in the area… what did we hit?
Even before I’m fully upright, Penn is running for the door, Leo close on her tail. I turn and look at the rest of the group. Surgeons, nurses, a psychiatrist… none of us have anywhere to run to, not yet at least.
‘So…what now?’ I ask.
Charles, the silent giant, looks at me, beer still in hand.
First words he’s said to me all night. I wish they didn’t sound quite so ominous.
Time passes. Five minutes, then ten. The alarms were have turned off, and now we’re just standing around, waiting. Waiting for a status report, or… something. With nothing else to do, I drink.
Drink and wait.
Or I wait anyway.
One by one, the rest of the group are either paged in for work, or wander off to do their own thing, ‘till it’s just me, alone in the kitchen.
It doesn’t take me long to return to my room. A few beer in hand, I keep drinking until I enter that uneasy, restless sleep that has hindered and annoyed drunks for centuries.
I won’t find out what we hit until the next morning, at a special debriefing. During the night, other crew take the ship’s Cutlass, the Frank, out, trip after trip.
They bring in the bodies.
Our ship hit a floating Constellation engine, and the engine exploded on contact. Some of the Endeavour’s armour-plating is charred, but the ship’ll be fine.
Floating with the engine though, seven bodies. All dead from exposure to the vacuum of space.
Going through one of their Glas’, Dr. McBoy finds a message.
‘Attacked by Reclaimer. Ship torn to pieces. Take us home.’
The message is dated four days ago.
Dr. McBoy calls it in, informs the UEE.
I try to sleep.
Charles and Dave help bring in the bodies, one by one, laying them out.
I curse the alcohol keeping me awake.
Penn cries as she, Simone, and Dr. McBoy contact next of kin.
I toss and turn as the alcohol plays with my dreams.
The next morning is depressed. I know I should be glad I wasn’t part of the cleanup, but now…
The crew and I were bonding. Now I’m alienated, the only crew member not part of the experience, however grizzly.
All I can think of as I’m sent off to do my rounds is that someone’s going to have to find a way to cheer up the crew.
And I really hope it isn’t going to have to be me.