“Mission leader’s log, supplemental, after encountering extreme graviton pulses in the McAllister C-5 Nebula, which forced us to eject our warp core, we have landed on a small Class O moon in the Paeko star system near the Setlik system. Though the Chawla has sustained heavy damage, everyone else is safe. The Columbia is on its way to collect us, in the meantime, we have made a camp on the edge of a tropical island. The temperatures on this moon are hotter than most places I’ve visited; however, our Cardassian friends are enjoying it.”

Bollwyn sought respite under the shelter of an alien palm tree, his face damp with sweat as he observed the binary stars ascend in the morning sky. The mission log, a small triumph amidst the vast unknown, was complete. The white sandy beach, a surreal juxtaposition of tranquillity and desolation, extended before him. The twin suns, their ethereal glow casting a spell, were a sight to behold. Yet, a knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach. Stranded on this tropical island in an unfamiliar world, Bollwyn was keenly aware of the challenges of survival. But beneath the layers of fear and exhaustion, a spark of determination flickered. This enigmatic world, a blend of beauty and peril, was both a prison and a test, and Bollwyn was resolved to face whatever challenges lay ahead with unwavering courage and determination. He had to keep everyone alive and in good spirits as they waited to be rescued by the Columbia.

The oppressive heat had driven Bollwyn to drastic measures. The bottom of his trousers now lay discarded, cut off to fashion makeshift shorts, while his Starfleet uniform jacket and undershirt had been torn off in the first few hours of their arrival. He couldn’t stand the sweltering temperatures any longer. Three days on this island had already left their mark: his skin bore a slight tan, a testament to the relentless suns, and his hair had lightened, sun-bleached from the constant exposure. Each bead of sweat and every new freckle was a reminder of the moon’s harsh embrace. 

At least they were alive; he had to remind himself of that. 

Bollwyn was not alone in his struggle against the heat. His fellow away team members had taken similar steps to cope with the relentless tropical climate, shedding layers and improvising their attire for comfort. Only the two guests from the Cardassian Union seemed unaffected, still wearing their full uniforms, showing they were not bothered by the heat and humidity. 

As Bollwyn sat contemplating their situation, he saw his friend, Clark, emerge from their shared two-person tent. Matthys, dressed in a similarly scant outfit of tattered shorts and a bare torso, approached with a sympathetic smile, carrying a water bottle. He handed it to Bollwyn, the cool liquid offering a brief respite from the relentless heat. Clark’s once neatly kept hair was now tousled and sun-streaked, matching the ruggedness of his makeshift attire. Bollwyn noticed that Clark’s fair skin had caught a slight pinkish tan on his exposed chest, with small patches of redness on his shoulders hinting at the beginning of a sunburn. Clark’s eyes, usually bright with enthusiasm, now held a glimmer of determination mixed with fatigue. The beads of sweat trickling down his face and chest mirrored Bollwyn’s struggle against the oppressive heat. Their eyes met in a moment of camaraderie, an unspoken understanding of the challenges they faced together on this alien shore.

“Morning, Matthys,” Bollwyn greeted him before taking a swig from the water bottle. “Did you sleep okay?”

Matthys groaned at the question. He had not slept well since they landed on this moon. “About as well as I could, despite feeling like I was being cooked in between napping periods.”

Bollwyn took another sip as he patted on the sand next to him, gesturing for Clark to sit next to him, as they shared the bottle of water, Bollwyn shared his thoughts about their situation. “If we could get the environmental controls on the Chawla fixed, I would suggest we all endure the next day or so in there, but without it, we would be roasted alive in there.”

“It’s not a bad idea although I don’t think we could even stand to be in that oven of a ship long enough to get those controls operational. We may roast alive, but our wonderful exchange colleagues probably would do just fine.” Matthys sighed after his reply and continued briefly, “I just want to get home. I’m done this this tropical vacation from hell.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, maybe not our Cardassian friends,” Bollwyn agreed as he passed the bottle back to Clark. “The last communique from the Columbia said they would warp around the nebula to find us. We shouldn’t be here for much longer.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Matthys held out the water bottle as if it were the most precious bottle of champagne before he took another swig.

“Good Morning,” Mereska stated as she walked over to the two Starfleet officers from the tent she left. Behind her, Darman followed her out. Both of them still seemed unaffected by their surroundings. “What a beautiful sunrise to see,” She remarked as she pointed to the horizon. “It almost reminds me of being at home on Septimus.”

“I’d prefer to be back on Cardassia,” Darman said dryly as he picked up one of the nearby camping chairs they had taken from their runabout to set up a crude area under some shelter to have their meals together. He sat in it and took a swig of his water bottle. After a second, he sniffed the air. “What is that odour?”

“Yes, what is that revoluting smell?” Mereska asked aloud.

Squinting at the two Cardassians, Bollwyn bit his bottom lip before he sniffed the air and then realised the smell was him and Clark. Without a working sonic shower and the pounding heat, personal hygiene hadn’t been a luxury they had at hand. He hadn’t noticed the smell until now.

“Not all of us can tolerate the heat,” Bollwyn reminded their Cardassian guests.

“And not all of us can tolerate such scents,” Darman countered. “Perhaps you two could go for a swim or something?”

Matthys’ posture went erect immediately, and he spat his words out at Darman, clearly having even thinner patience than his normal near non-existent amount. “Perhaps you can take that bottle and shove–” 

Bollwyn placed a light hand on his friend’s shoulder to keep him where he was and gently reminded him that they had to remain diplomatic with the Cardassians. 

The other tent opened at that point, and Nitala and Mkana appeared. 

Giving a slight stretch as Mkana looked at his fellow marooned members and notice the tension “Hope everyone had a good rest…” Mkana stated and when he sat down he notice the odor and looked at Bollwyn and Matthys and choose not to say anything by looking away. 

“As I said when we landed, if we want to survive this, then we need to-”, Bollwyn started but was stopped by Darman.

“Yes, yes, we’ve all heard the ‘working together to survive’ speech, Ensign Bollwyn. And if we are to survive this, could you two both be a bit more considerate of the rest of us?” 

Offended by that and biting his bottom lip further, Bollwyn stood up and glared at the Cardassian. “Matthys, let’s go and see if those fishing traps we set up last night have caught anything,” He said through gritted teeth. 

“What a great idea Samwell. Thank goodness some of us are useful around here,” Matthys glared at Darman but then focused his attention on Bollwyn and prepared to follow him as requested. 

“What would you like us to do while you’re away playing with the fish, Ensign?” Darman said, smirking that he had got under their skin. 

“Why don’t you go up that hill and find ourselves some more of those fruits that you and Mkana found the other day,” Bollwyn remarked. 

Darman just nodded. 

“I’ll fill up our water filter system,” Mereska said.

“Fine,” Bollwyn said as he gave Clark a look that showed he wanted to move now away from them both.

Once the men were further down the beach and away from everyone else, Bollwyn groaned loudly. “I swear, Matthys, the moment we get back to Columbia, I want to lay in one of your Tellarite mud baths for a week without thinking about Cardassians and being diplomatic.”

“I think I’m going to need to lie in a real bath for a month to get this stench off of me,” Matthys replied, not quite wanting to admit that Darman had not been wrong in his criticism of their current smell.

Bollwyn smiled at his friend and sniffed him a bit. “I don’t think we smell that bad.”

Matthys raised his arm and sniffed his own armpit; he immediately formed a disgusted look on his face. “Are you sure?”

“Musky perhaps, but can you blame us for having sweaty pits here?” He asked aloud as he briefly sniffed his armpits. 

Matthys moved closer and took a quick smell of his friend, too. “Phewf. You are even worse than I am!” He grinned and playfully jabbed him in the shoulder with his elbow.

They approached the water and instantly waded into it. “I really hope there’s something in here. I don’t think I could survive hearing Darman complain about field rations another day.”

“If there is something there, I vote we don’t let him have any of it. He’d likely complain about how we cooked it anyways.” Matthys replied, a bit spiteful in his tone.

As the water splashed against their legs, Bollwyn felt immediate relief from its coolness, soothing his sun-baked skin as he waded in up to his knees. He savoured the sensation, the gentle waves lapping against his legs offering a stark contrast to the relentless heat of the island.

As they began checking the traps, Bollwyn couldn’t resist a moment of levity. With a playful grin, he splashed a handful of water toward Clark.

The water hit Matthys on the side and back, and the cool juxtaposition of the water against his humid and clammy skin caused him to shreek dramatically. “Oh no, you didn’t!” He placed his hand on his side and stared Bollwyn down in disbelief.

Bursting out in laughter, Bollwyn chucked a load more water at Clark.

Matthys immediately responded by reaching down with his hands and throwing up as much water toward Bollwyn as he could. 

“Oh, it’s on!” Bollwyn remarked as he jumped in the air and landed on top of Clark, playfully tackling him into the water. 

They both went down with a splash, laughter ringing out as they wrestled gently in the shallows. They rolled and tussled, the water churning around them, until they were both breathless with laughter, lying side by side in the shallows, staring up at the strange sky above.

“We should really check if the traps found something,” Bollwyn said after getting his breath back and sitting up on his elbows. 

“Hopefully, there is something. I’m certain we’ve scared away any potential fish for quite some time.” Matthys smiled at his friend and was grateful he had decided to be jovial and initiate the water fight. He felt his spirits lifted some as a result of the interaction.

Before returning to the traps, they heard a voice calling for them from behind. It was Mereska. “Ensign Bollwyn, the communication beacon is active, the Columbia has just entered the system.”

“Are you sure?” Bollwyn said, surprised to hear the Columbia was entering the system as he looked at Nitala.  

“Positive,” The Cardassian woman replied. 

At that point, Mereska took a few steps into the water herself.

Glad to hear that their rescue was ahead of what they expected, Bollwyn couldn’t contain his excitement. A surge of relief and joy swept through him, and he let out a triumphant cheer that echoed across the beach. Without a second thought, he leapt onto Clark’s back, wrapping his arms around his friend’s shoulders in a triumphant embrace. Clark staggered for a moment under the unexpected weight before both tumbled backwards into the water with a massive splash. Laughter bubbled between them as they surfaced, water cascading off their faces and shoulders.

With mischievous grins, Bollwyn and Clark exchanged glances and splashed Mereska playfully. She yelped in surprise but soon joined in with a gleeful laugh, retaliating with her splash toward them. As soon as all three heard Mkana running towards them, asking if what he had just overhead told him was true, the other three all turned and splashed him.