Chapter 2
I openmy eyes and blink several times to bring the world into focus. I’m sideways in my seat, the harness stopping me from falling. The cockpit smells of burned out circuits and singed plastic. I close my eyes again, hoping that this is a horrible dream and that I’m about to wake up to Sawle telling me it’s my shift.
But the harness is cutting into thigh and my chest, making it hard to breathe.
“Sawle?” My voice is rough like I’ve been screaming.
I need to get out of the harness. The release button doesn’t work, it’s jammed. I keep a regulation knife in my boot. Everyone is supposed to, few do. A grim smile forms on my lips.Rin Daley, best known for following every rule.
But if Sawle had followed protocol, I wouldn’t be trapped in my seat on a planet in the middle of nowhere. The nearest inhabited planet is months away. The nearest trading station even further. It’s no wonder no one lives here.
With a twist and a grunt, I grab the knife and carefully cut my way free, dropping onto the consol.
“Ah!” The metal burns and I scramble off.
Now I’m free, I take a few seconds to do a better assessment of the situation. Sun slants through the cracked windscreen, giving me enough pale light to see around the cockpit. Half the windscreen appears to be buried in snow.Great.That means the ship is perched on a mountain, not in a valley. It also means it will be bitterly cold outside.
I shuffle over the slanting floor and almost step on Sawle. He’s sprawled in the shadows, eyes staring at the roof, his head at an unnatural angle. I stifle a sob as I check for a pulse, already knowing there won’t be one. His neck is broken. He was a pain in the ass the whole excursion, but I never wished him ill.
And now I’m alone.
The scream I’ve been holding back escapes, closely followed by a sob that wants to crack my chest open. I am so completely and utterly screwed. I give into the panic. My breathing quickens and I scream again, even though I know there’s no one to hear me. I need to pull myself together.
I allow myself another thirty seconds of panic—only thirty because every minute in a survival situation counts.
Then I draw in a big, shaky breath, wipe my cheeks dry and collect my thoughts—which would be easier if they hadn’t all scattered—then exhale slowly. I close my eyes and recall what I should be doing. What the company drilled into us.
First, locate the emergency beacon. That might be step one because they want their equipment back and if it were step two the survivor may have already passed out.
The beacon is bright red and unmissable. I break it open and activate it. Or at least I think it’s activated. No light comes on, and I have no clue if it’s sending out a signal. I’ve never used one. However, there’s nothing else I can do. No other button to press, so I have to assume that it’s working, and that help will come.
Next, I check myself for injuries. Aside from what will be some epic bruises on top of abrasions where the harness bit into me, I don’t hurt too much. There’s no point in checking Sawle again. I can’t even look in his direction. My breathing shortens to pants and I know that I’m on the verge of sinking into the panic again.
Focus and stay busy, Rin.
I move out of the cockpit and into the middle of the ship where the sleeping quarters and mess are located. Down the back, through a narrow corridor is where the drones are housed along with the samples I collected, all carefully logged and stored as per the regulations. The drones have more room than the humans. These ships aren’t built to be spacious, but I don’t mind. I never had much space growing up, but this way I get to travel. Or at least as I used to. Now I must survive and wait for rescue.
When they find me, I won’t just be demoted, I’ll be kicked out. I’ll have to go back to working with my parents on the algae farm. My father will tell me off for wasting time and money in getting trained and trying, and my mother will remind me that growing food for people is an honorable and valuable profession.
I can’t go back.
I won’t.
For a moment I can’t move. I can’t think past the dread of the next few days. I don’t know how survive in snow. I close my eyes. I may not know how to survive in snow, but I know what I need to live, and I can assess what’s on the ship.
There’s enough food for Sawle and me for another ten days.
That gives me twenty days…thirty if I really stretch it. With the engines not running, the ship won’t be making water or fresh air. Air is my first problem.
The planet, Lora, has breathable air composition, but I have no doubt that it will be filled with alien microbes might kill me. But so will carbon dioxide poisoning. I look at the area in the ship and try to do the math on how much air there is inside and fail. I figure the air will be stale in a few days. It will be six days, minimum, before help arrives.
Leaving the ship is against protocol, however opening the rear door isn’t. I pull myself up the corridor, past spilled drones, to the rear. Without the engines running, I have to open the door with the manual override. Of course everything warped in the crash, and the door is at an angle making it ten times harder. I end up shoving all my body weight against the lever, before it finally gives, and the door opens a crack.
The air is sharp and cold, and cuts through my thin flight suit. I don’t want to breathe the air in, but it’s already too late. If I get sick before rescue comes, they’ll use my body as research.
Even though most mining is done by machine, humans still need to be on site to fix problems. And just because a planet can sustain life doesn’t mean that it will be a pleasant life, or that protection isn’t required.
With my lungs now aching with the cold and full of alien air, I open the door a little wider and peer out. Above me, the storm still rages. Lightning snaps across the sky in ribbons of purple. The mountains seem to hum with energy. For half a second, I let myself appreciate the beauty, before reminding myself of the danger.
