Moon Base, They Build These Things Out of Kits
Posted on December 22nd, 2010 by T'Kirr

“Human design – you’ve got a thing about kits. This place was put together like a flat-pack wardrobe, only bigger. And easier.”

~ DW: TIP

A feral baying began in a distant part of the valley below to the west, as if in celebration of Gencodia’s beginning night cycle. Gencodia, this moon was called–a name just recently rediscovered, yet to the creatures upon its skin, its environment was all they knew.

The complexity of just one moon, one of countless others within the universe, fascinated T’Kirr. She could devote the better part of her long life studying its historical and ecological properties. Space travelers are prone to seeing a single satellite as small, tiny and insignificant in the bigger picture, choosing to merely touch on the many and delve deeply into the few. While this perspective is understandably common to those with limited lifespans like even her own, T’Kirr chose to believe her appreciation for standing still stemmed from her ready resistance to becoming bored.

Fortunately, many people she crewed with every day shared her view. T’Kirr turned her face from the darkness of the cliffside to the buzz of illuminated activity behind her. There was an excitement to the crewmen who darted in and out of the central dome. Idle hands eagerly grabbed a corner to assist struggling load-bearers or kicked supplies out of the way. People put serious effort into getting their tasks accomplished while still finding opportunity to chat and laugh with each other.

Gencodia’s Operations Base One was coming together way ahead of schedule. Transporter activity had finally ceased forty-three minutes ago. Construct materials were all but cleared away as all four accessory domes had been completed. What remained in the courtyard in a ring around the beam-down site consisted of supplies and interior furnishings yet to be allocated into the structures. If the current level of activity continued, T’Kirr estimated they would finish with the day’s work in about two hours.

T’Kirr stepped into the camp that served as a tiny bright bubble of home ensconced by the vast wild of natural moon. The first thing to be connected to the generators was the lighting and the second had been the replicators. T’Kirr saw nothing wrong with rations, but others felt it important to set up what was called a “barbecue” off to one side with all manner of tables complementing a sizzling grill. Only a small line had formed, but T’Kirr suspected it would grow as duties ended and people began to turn in.

An eager crewman rushed up to T’Kirr and pushed a steaming plate under her nose. She was grateful to find the crewman savvy enough to leave the meat out of it, so she accepted the food and thanked him.

“Exciting, isn’t it, sir?” the crewman grinned widely. She couldn’t quite place the Earth accent, but she knew she had heard it before.

T’Kirr eyed him before glancing around the bustling camp. “Apparently.”

The response must not have been considered adequate, as the man’s grin faded somewhat before he continued, looking around as if following her eyes. “I think it’s great everybody’s got something to look forward to and work on together besides the everyday function of a starship. It’s like a working holiday.”

Now that he spoke more, T’Kirr decided it had to be one of the European accents. Scottish? Or was it British? “I agree completely. What is your name, crewman?”

His smile returned. “McDonald, sir.” He bowed his head slightly. “Ma’am. Terrance McDonald.”

T’Kirr inclined her head, studying his face. She remembered the name from the roster. “Well, Mr. McDonald, I thank you for delivering me dinner. Did you get some for yourself?”

“Ah, yes,” he pointed at a table, “Right over there.”

“I’d best let you attend to it, then. Enjoy your evening.”

McDonald smiled and, to her surprise, winked. “Cheers, sir.” He walked toward his waiting meal.

T’Kirr had long ago become accustomed to flavorful and potently fragrant foods since leaving Vulcan, and the food before her stirred her appetite quite successfully, reminding her she hadn’t had anything to eat since that morning aboard Atlantis.

T’Kirr diverted her attention back towards the crew. How many of them, she wondered, would ask to remain here on Gencodia? Requests would no doubt begin coming in soon, and she would go through them all. It was her duty, as was the matter of their replacements.

Her eyes were drawn to the flicker of a shadow above the treeline, across and behind the camp to the northeast. She squinted in curiosity and turned her eyes slightly away, attempting to catch any trace of movement in the near darkness. After standing completely still for several moments and seeing no sign of it, she tapped her combadge and contacted Colonel McKnight. T’Kirr asked if he knew of Second Lieutenant Kuari’s whereabouts and was informed that she was actually with him. She acknowledged McKnight’s answer and closed the comm, still staring at the dark spot above the treeline. If it wasn’t Kuari, then what had it been?

A report had come in of a possibly predatory flying animal in the area, a report from Kuari, in fact. Commander Harper’s translations had suggested the people here had used winged mounts. Could both reports refer to the same creature? Could it be the same thing T’Kirr had just caught a glimpse of?

More importantly, was it a danger to the crew?