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The Jendell Academy for Aeronautics hadn’t lied when they said Jendellian physiology and Terran gravitational forces did not mix well. That was the first thing he learned about the planet so far from home. But he never actually meant to end up on Terra. Or Earth as its occupants called it.
It was a routine transport mission shipping coal from Xendaria back to Jendell, which was going under something of an energy crisis. He’d made the trip before though plenty of times. Ace could navigate the small spacecraft in his sleep if he wanted to…and basically had before after forgoing sleep in favor of some late night vices.
But on that fateful trip, his usual calm and collect demeanor fled as the cabin flashed with red, blinking lights, and a ringing noise filled his ears alerting him to an error detected in the fuel systems. His amber eyes widened as he determined he did not have enough power to return safely back to Jendell, so an emergency landing elsewhere was necessary.
And that was the last he could remember before waking up with a pounding headache, the cabin now in complete echoing silence.
Pulling himself out of the wreckage with a groan, he surveyed the area he landed in. No visual clues honed him in right away; all he saw were trees and foliage. And the gravity planted him firmly on the ground, making him feel like he had cinderblocks tied around him.
This was not ideal at all. He checked the readings on chronometer, and, once again, dread grew in his stomach. Terra…
Jendellians were strictly no-contact with Terrans without firm conditions. All visitors had to be carefully vetted through the proper channels, including hiding all identifying Jendellian features. A secretive race, Jendellians feared their small, yet technologically advanced planet could be overthrown by the Terrans, who they had observed as warmongers.
Although Jendellians shared human biology, one feature easily set them apart from Terrans. Jendellians were born with sacred facial markings denoting their lineage. These marks had come from the early cave dwelling ancestors who would paint up their faces as a show of camaraderie with their families. Whenever they had to face the blinding snow, the marks allowed for quick identification of family members. And overtime, Jendellians adapted these marks into their actual skin.
Ace brought up a shaking hand to his face, stroking the marks of his people, the multi-pointed silver design around his eyes that connected him back to the revered house of King Zolar and Queen Altare…
He lamented the idea of having to cover up his markings, a source of great pride for any Jendellian, but he couldn’t risk his planet’s security either. In retrospect, it had been a good idea he recently dyed his silver hair black in order to impress Domino, the daughter of a high-ranking Jendellian commander.
But back on the current issue…
Surely there had to be others in a similar predicament…
”I really shoulda listened in class,” he mumbled, inspecting the spacecraft for any salvageable parts.
It could take months for a rescue party to locate him, if they even thought he survived the crash. And how long it would take him to build a properly functioning shuttle back to Jendell with the rudimentary Terran equipment?