It’ll take time for that message to reach him—and even longer for help to arrive. Until then, I’m on my own.
“Azkarra, can you gradually lower the oxygen levels in the cabin so I can adjust to the atmosphere outside?”
“Negative. Did you not hear the list of breached panels? Our oxygen is leaking—slowly but steadily.
In four hours, you’ll be at the same oxygen level as the exterior. I suggest you retrieve the full-face breathing mask from the cargo bay. You’ll be able to program it for gradual adaptation. You’ll need to wear it for at least six days to avoid hypoxia.”
Ah, shit!
So much for lying low in the cabin, munching on survival bars for a few days. And now I’m stuck with a helmet on my head for the better part of a week?
That’s gonna suck.
Suddenly, a loud crack rips through the cabin. My whole body goes still, waiting to see what comes next.
An attack?
Then it clicks.
That wasn’t an explosion—it was afracture.
The icy water flooding my bare feet confirms what I was struggling to accept: I didn’t land on a frozenfield—I crashedonto afrozen lake. And the ice is starting to break up under the impact and the ship’s weight.
I unstrap myself at once, and the mask is still strapped to my face. But to move through the cabin, I’ll have to remove it.
“TheBakartiais sinking through the ice. You must evacuate immediately,” Azkarra informs me. “Don’t forget your thermal-regulated suit, your survival kit, your weapon, and—”
I’m not listening anymore. I have to get out before the ship goes under completely and the surface refreezes.
No time for the suit—it takes too long to put on.
Right now, the cabin’s oxygen drop is manageable, though every new breath feels a bit tighter than the last.
I just grab the sealed survival bag, stuff my weapon into it, and strap it to my back.
No time for anything else—water’s already at my waist.
“Azkarra, open the side hatch!”
No response.
Azkarra’s gone silent. TheBakartiais now nothing more than a sinking coffin.
I reach for the emergency panel near the hatch and trigger the manual override.
Immediately, a flood of icy water rushes in, sweeping me back from the exit.
I fight to stay near the hatch, struggling more with each painful gasp. Azkarra wasn’t kidding—the oxygen drop is hitting hard.
As the freezing wave swallows the cabin and the ship tilts heavily forward, I take one last breath and launch myself toward the exit with everything I’ve got.
It works—I burst into the open. But no time to celebrate.
I’m being pulled downward—dragged by the sinkingBakartia.
I dig my claws into the edge of the ice above and fight with everything I have not to get dragged down with it.
When everything finally stills, I’m completely spent.
