Chapter Text
Walls pressing, winds buffeting, roaring heat encompassing the escape pod.
The ship had been destroyed, the cockpit sealed and ejected by the automatic systems.
Empty space gaving way to the aerated atmosphere below, compressed air heating the hull, scorching, melting, never meant for this maltreatment.
Hundreds of kilometres above the planet’s surface, plummeting without control - the pod’s stabilisers had ripped off as soon as they deployed, so great was its velocity. The ground was steadily approaching, the view of continents and oceans giving way to a solid mass of blue water, land barely visible in the distance, the shore of some bustling alien metropolis.
So fast, too fast, little chance of survival… 4.6% chance of survival, to be exact.
The pod was vibrating violently, shaking me around in my harness as the pod slowed in the denser atmosphere, reaching terminal velocity, any loose objects coming loose, rattling around inside the hull, missing me by millimetres, some coming into forceful contact with my arms, legs, abdomen, the helmet my only barrier between myself and severe head trauma.
Down, down, down… tens of kilometres above the surface now, the altimeter ticking down too fast to read, the sight beyond the scorched viewscreen filled with the blue of the planet’s ocean - chances of survival increased to 47.8% if I achieve a water landing.
Down, down, down, a mere thousand metres high now, and steadily dropping… I wonder if the native population has sighted me, or merely mistaken me for one of their primitive rockets. I was never meant to be here. I was never meant to stray from orbit, yet down I go, so close now, the water rushing up to meet me--
Impact. The roaring stopped, leaving me deaf to any sounds around me, the light dimming to near darkness, only revealing streams of bubbles rushing past the viewscreen as the heated hull boiled the water around it.
I had been thrown forward in my harness, bruising my abdomen. I tentatively pressed down in key areas, assessing the damage, wincing slightly as I connected with several broken ribs. Five broken ribs. Fractured tibia. Sprained vertebrae. Heavy bruising throughout the rest of my body.
I am… lucky to be alive.
No, nonsense. My chances of survival were just under half. It was merely a matter of probability.
The pod resurfaced, bobbing about in the waves, the buoyancy of the air inside providing an overall lower density than the surrounding water, lifting me up.
My hearing was returning now, adjusting to the silence… almost silence. I strained my hearing, attempting to identify the whirring noise I could hear… propellers? Primitive motors?
Suddenly, I felt cold, tendrils of ice solidifying inside my chest. Fear. I quickly stamped down on the emotion, yet it was no use. The natives were going to find me, find my ship. It was too early for First Contact, this species wasn’t ready, they did not even know that alien life existed… And now they were going to find out, in spectacular form. They would have a real, live alien on their hands. And this species was not renowned for its gentle nature.
I was going to die.
I did not want to die.
I had to escape.
I undid the harness, rummaging about in the pod for the survival kit - a water-proof backpack that contained nondescript clothing, nourishment, and the basic technology required to send out a distress signal. I turned to pull the pack over my shoulders, catching sight of something that glinted behind it. My mother’s “birthday present” to me. She had known I was coming to survey this planet, that I would be away during the time where I would be recorded as one year older. She had a special connection to this place.
I quickly packed the shiny box in the survival kit, activating the rebreather in my helmet, and preparing to disengage the hatch, hitting the self-destruct button as I stood above the exit.
One…
Two…
Three.
I closed my eyes, but nothing could have prepared me for the icy cold rush of water that hit me, quickly filling up the pod and causing it to sink. I was a creature of the desert, never meant to be submerged. Yet desperate times call for desperate measures.
A panel on the wall flashed red, counting down in my native script - 20… 19… 18… 17…
I had to move away, fast. My armour would protect me from the shockwave, deadly as it would be under the water, but the further away I could swim, the higher my chances of survival.
Increasing by 17% for every ten metres I could swim away.
I kicked off from the hull, pulling myself through the water as fast as I could, reaching out and kicking forward with all the force I could muster in my broken, battered state. My body screamed out in pain, but I shut it off, boxing away the pain just as I did my emotions.
3…
2…
1…
Impact.
The fiery shockwave lit up the water before it was extinguished, the shockwave pushing out, catching me, pushing me along with it for another hundred metres. It hurt, every limb and organ telling me to stop this abuse, and yet… I was still alive.
All I wanted to do was get out of this water, crawl onto dry land and sleep, but I knew I couldn’t surface yet. My ship was obliterated now, completely gone, and now I had to make myself scarce also, lest they capture me.
I drifted in the water for a time, my internal chronometer not functioning at its optimal efficiency. I could not tell if minutes had passed, or whole hours, yet I knew I had to move.
My exosuit microprocessors were still functional, the screens set into the armoured suit cracked and damaged, yet still able to give me the information I required.
I turned in the water until I was facing the nearest land mass, one kilometre away. So close to civilisation, there was no doubt that the natives would have seen my ship fall and enter the water, would have observed the subsequent explosion.
I had to remain undetected.
Slowly, I swum towards the mainland, tired, sore and dehydrated, yet… alive.