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Tabor Nansk

Tabor log

Tabor sat at the controls of the rescue shuttle uncharacteristically frozen with indecision. With every waning of the storm’s winds, he would reach for the throttles determined to take action. The problem was what action to take.

 

He was certain he could launch out vertically, clear the planet’s atmosphere and gain the safety of space. It was just that that didn’t gain him anything. Sure, he could contact the Reaent from there, but that was all. There was no help coming from the ship. If there was something they could do, they would have done it when the first team became stranded and there would have been no need for the second shuttle. Secondly, once clear of the storm, there was no guarantee that he could manage a successful landing again even if the sensors somehow penetrated the interference and located the away team. And he would never abandon them.

 

Flying through the storm was just as problematic. Almost zero sensors meant he would be at the mercy of the wildly fluctuating winds – even if he knew what course to plot. He had only the rudimentary direction that the rescue team had taken on foot. Once again he rued the lack of ground capabilities, though to be fair, the designers couldn’t be faulted for not thinking of wheels on a space flight vehicle.

 

That left staying put as the number one option, one that had the plus of actually following Cmdr. Ridire’s orders. But sitting was not in Tabor’s nature, especially given the admittedly garbled transmission from said commander that seemed to indicate they were in trouble.

 

So Tabor had decided to “hop” the shuttle: lifting off a few feet, clearing the dense forest growth with a low power short burst of phaser fire, moving forward, and then setting down again. It was a risky maneuver – for anyone or anything in front of the phasers – but Tabor was out of patience.

As the winds abated again, he began to power up the thrusters. Suddenly the windshield was filled with a giant eye. Before Tabor could react, the eye withdrew exposing the biggest creature the likes of which he’d never seen. It grabbed hold of the shuttle and lifted in into the air like a child’s toy, tossing and turning it before finally flinging it skyward in a long arc. “Well,” he thought, “decision made.” Tabor pushed the throttles to full and did his best to regain stability of the gyrating craft. After what must have been two or three rolls (a generous description of out of control tumbling), Tabor spotted a likely clearing on the ground and worked to set the shuttle down as gently as possible. Ridire was going to have his hide for not being at the original landing site but at least he wouldn’t be able to add crashing the shuttle to the charge.

 

Now for the 64 latinum question: where was he?

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