Anyone can tell they are going to have a bad day when they are stranded on a planet, with no one there to rescue them.
There I am, in a shuttlecraft, minding my own business, when the plasma cells blow up and I'm forced to land on the nearest M-Class planet. Coughing due to the smoke, I try to pilot the ship and it hits the ground with a thud and buckles up.
Yes, I know. I'm the Captain. I don't need to do on these missions on my own, but somehow it looks good that I don't just sit in the chair all day saying ,"Make it so!"
Next time I'll delegate instead of volunteering.
It's getting hot in the shuttle, so I take a look outside.
The area is a barren desert landscape. I can't stay in the shuttle though, otherwise I'll be like an turkey at the Thanksgiving cereomonies on Earth.
Looking at the Emergency Rations, there is a bottle of water, a lump of cheese and bread.
Hardly 24th Century provisions, are they?
Outside, I set up the distress beacon; that should attract the Enterprise eventually.
I look at the tricorder and see there are lifesigns in a northerly direction. This is a primative pre-warp planet, and should not make contact with them as it is contrary to the Prime Directive.
As I'm likely to be frazzled if I remain here, the Prime Directive was swiftly jettisoned when landing.
An arrow is shaped in the sand pointing to the direction I'll be going.
My bread, cheese and water are ready, and set off north.
I never liked warm planets as it was.