My heart sinks when the hum dies, but I keep moving through the battered section of the ship, hoping to find something useful.
Rations, maybe? Or more water.
With renewed purpose, I sift through the mangled mess, also searching for any salvageable circuits or data storage devices.
The lack of other pods in the wreck further cements the reality at hand.
We were separated in the crash.
My stomach rumbles, a reminder of my basic needs. The strange ration bar tastes like moldy cardboard, but it does its job of filling the void.
Taking a swig of the blue liquid, I wince at the metallic tang, forcing it down.
With a final, defeated glance at the mangled control panel, I turn my back on the wreckage. The alien landscape stretches out before me, a daunting canvas of red and orange.
In the distance, I see the desert bleed away into lush greenery. The stark coexistence between plenty and drought stuns me for a bit, making me drink in the sight with wonder.
To be fair, such a location wouldn't look out of place on the brochure of an exotic travel destination, but that was civvy talk.
I'd seen enough combat scenarios to know that even the most beautiful locations can hide the deadliest pitfalls.
Taking a deep breath, I adjust the bag on my shoulder, then I bend back to retrieve the makeshift glass shard and flex my digits on its handle.
There's no point in dwelling on what ifs.
I have to get moving, find shelter, and figure out a way to survive.
Plus, find a bunch of civilian women. Who are probably freaking the hell out right now.
Perfect.
6
Drasuk
I brush away the layer of damp leaves, revealing a small metallic box embedded in the soft earth. My claws, still dripping with the genali's gore, click against the smooth surface.
It's a clip of ammunition, likely of braceaaer origin.
Before I can figure out a way to store it, a fresh scent hits me, sharp and alluring, cutting through the metallic tang of blood and the cloying stench of genali slime.
Sure enough, it is the scent of my enemy, the genali, but laced with something else, something tantalizing.
My instincts roar to life, urging me toward the source.
This isn't just another slime. This is something different.
It causes a shifting interest at the junction between my lower gut and pelvis and I take a few steps toward the scent before I am even conscious of the motion.
How could something so discomfort-inducing also smell so good?
I glance around for the clip of ammunition I dropped, but decide it isn't worth sifting through the puddled corpses or displaced flora.
Ignoring the throbbing pain in my muscles, I push forward, drawn by the irresistible aroma.
North, it beckons. The dense foliage brushes against my tough hide, the humid air heavy in my lungs.
The lush grass-covered ground gives way to rocky terrain, the undergrowth thinning out, but still green and lustrous.
