By the time I got to my quarters, put on clothes, and stumbled into the Bridge, my coordination had improved slightly. A headache pounded between my eyes. It felt as if my head were in the deep ocean, while the rest of my body floated adrift the lightly rolling waves. 

   Officer Peterson waited in the Bridge, rubbing his forehead tiredly. My eyes saw the shutters that had closed over the glass of the front. My station was dusty as I sat down, turning it on. Officer Peterson sat at his own station. With the click of a button, the shutters lifted. My jaw fell open.

    Z-031 shone before us in all of its foreign glory. It held similarities to Earth, but there were subtle differences, such as the slight orange coloration of the clouds above it. The surface had more green than anything else, with patches of color and grey speckled across it. It looked massive, looming over the Patriot. There was little water that I could see. But I hadn't been aware that Z-031 had that much natural greenery.

    "I can land us," I said curtly. "But without a full crew manning the ship, it's going to be rough."

    Officer Peterson nodded. "I'll focus on the crew. Don't worry about the gravity or life systems."

    I turned to my station, recalling my training from what felt like days ago. I had a hard time believing that that was three hundred years in the past. Until I saw proof, my brain was firmly convinced that nothing had happened. A few controls appeared before me, and I carefully organized the large station to display all of the controls I needed. After exhaling, I pressed my fingers on the steering control panel. The nose of the Patriot turned downward, and the thrusters pushed us toward Z-031.

    Gravity grabbed us quickly and the ship rattled. Officer Peterson worked to keep the artificial gravity from spiraling out of control. The ship groaned, and I swore as I saw a warning message. "Crap. This is going to be bad." We had no other option than to land, and with just the two of us, this was going to be horrible. Normally, there'd be thirty-eight people working to land the ship. We had to operate the entire lower deck from two stations.

    A beep signaled an incoming message before a voice echoed over the speakers. "Identify your vessel and please slow your decent."

    The Patriot rattled as I lost focus. I slammed my fist onto the button that would record my message, working frantically with the other controls. In the split second I'd lifted my hand from the stabilizer, the pressure within the ship shifted. "Get bystanders out of the way! We don't have the crew to land smoothly." I let go and returned my hand to the stabilizer, adjusting it, and reached for the thruster control.

    Beep. "Who is speaking? Please slow your decent."

   I sent another message back, agitated. "Get people out of our way before we land!" Then I blocked any further messages. I can't handle that right now. I turned back to the controls as the Patriot groaned, threatening to lilt dangerously. I winced for the sleeping crew.

    "We're running low on power," warned Officer Peterson. "We'll be lucky if we have enough power to sustain the chamber by the time we land."

   We've certainly found the problem, then. We need help. I hit a button to send a message back, forgetting that I'd blocked comms, and got an error sound. I swore. The ground rushed towards us too fast. My hands flew into action, my past pilot experience taking over my mentality. Everything around me disappeared as I tunneled. My fingers darted across the station in a frenzy. The engines turned the thrusters, facing towards the ground, and I rerouted all of the spare power I could into them. The thrusters' gauge turned scarlet in warning. But the Patriot screeched as it slowed its deadly decent into Z-031's atmosphere. Trees bent from the wind as we slowed, hovering above the ground. Sweat dripped down my brow. 

   "Less than ten percent power!" Officer Peterson shouted, frantic. "If we drop any more, we'll lose the crew!"

   "Shit!" I cursed. "Get anti-gravity on. Now!"

   He obeyed. My feet lifted from the floor. I gripped the station and slammed off the thrusters. The Patriot felt suspended for a single seconds before it crashed onto the ground. The trees snapped and the whole ship shook violently. My body shot from my seat and floated into the air, due to the lack of gravity. Officer Peterson flailed, grabbing his desk. "Should I turn the gravity back on?"

   "Slowly."

    "Yes, First Officer." Weight slowly took over my body again. I steadied myself as my feet touched the ground, hands braced on my station. I licked the sweat off of my lips. He didn't look much better. The Patriot was mildly damaged, but we were alive. The main lights of the room had shut off, signaling the ship was in power-saving mode.

   "Is the crew okay?"

   "I'm scanning right now," he admitted. "I think they are. Other than a few bruises. We're lucky."

   I shook my head slowly, hands sticky from sweat. A message beeped as it appeared on my station, and with a grimace, I played it. 

   "What do you think you're doing?! Report to the Docking Station right away before we are forced to arrest you for trespassing."

    Who is this? Shouldn't the Pioneer be expecting us? I pressed the button to record my voice. "Send the Captain of the Pioneer to us right away. We've got a crew in danger of dying. Tell Captain Spencer that we need power. He should have supplies in the Pioneer with enough power to charge us."

    Beep. "Please disembark your ship."

   My temper started to ruffle. "Who is this?"

   "I repeat, please disembark your ship."

    I gritted my teeth and turned to Officer Peterson. "They act like they have no idea we were right behind the Pioneer in landing on this planet. We're going to have to disembark to talk to them. However I am not taking chances with our state. Arm up." My hand pressed the button on the underside of my station.

   A portion of the wall lifted up and the lights turned on, revealing the wall of weaponry. Officer Peterson nodded. I snagged two pistols and their holsters, strapping up. A pat of my wrist confirmed I had my communication clasp, and then we headed for the bay doors. Our boots left footprints in the dust.