Riley plodded onwards wearily, trying to think about putting one foot in front of the other without stopping. His navigation device told him just how far they had to go still, and the little numerals indicating their distance so far were depressingly small. His feet were aching after so long, it felt as if they had been walking for days, which in Earth time they had. Unfortunately, on this strange alien world the sun was only just passing its peak in the sky.
The fierce heat of the midday sun had at last begun to relent as it began its painfully slow journey downwards. To help cool them even more thick clouds had poured in from the east, darkening the land and beginning to drop a thin, persistent rain that became steadily heavier and heavier. After three hours of the unrelenting damp they were all soaked to the skin, despite their supposedly waterproof clothing.
He shivered and took a sip of lukewarm water from his pack, looking back over his shoulder at the line of men and ponies behind him. They were traversing a wide plain again, wading waist deep through meadows of damp grass and sweet smelling flowers. The group had spread out, each lost in their own thoughts and looking thoroughly miserable. Twilight looked grumpy, the rain had forced her to put away the piece of paper she was scribbling on and she seemed particularly put out by it.
He huffed through his nose. After her heartfelt outburst before she had almost immediately run off to write, suddenly seemingly uninterested in him. He had a strong suspicion that whatever she had been scribbling away at was about him, but whenever he tried to peer over her shoulder she had hidden it away secretively.
“Good to see they’re just as insane on this planet as back home,” he said quietly to the air, mostly to hear himself speak. It was lonely up at the front, nothing but the hiss of the rain and his own thoughts.
His head ached slightly from the conflicting thoughts inside. He could no longer avoid admitting that he didn’t feel some degree of fondness for Twilight, as much as he had tried to avoid it. She was fascinating and somewhat alluring, and soon he would leave her behind forever. If all went to plan then it was only another few earth-days until they would be leaving for good, and he consoled himself with the knowledge that he only had to remain strong until then.
It was difficult, however, to stop thinking of her, especially when she was only twenty paces away and there wasn’t a lot else to do. He didn’t have a lot of friends, and he couldn’t deny that they had developed some sort of bond, that click that would form with someone new, even when you had hardly said a word to one another. That spark was there, as strange that it was to encounter it between species. His mind recalled the admiral’s parting words after the initial official meeting between species, ‘don’t get attached.’
He blinked hard a few times and shook his head fiercely, trying to clear his thoughts, plodding onwards through the grasses and tall weeds. It was all too easy, when away from the structure of the fleet, to allow the strength of the military mindset to fall apart. He had to remain strong, that was his duty.
A few times they had spotted herds of some form of cattle in the distance, grazing on the verdant meadows, but they had never got close, the creatures running away before they could get within earshot. Rainbow Dash had explained to him that they were just cows, and they were really dumb. The rain had even quietened her, he noted, with a little satisfaction. She trudged along behind Twilight, head down and wings extended a little to the sides, water running along them like a duck’s back and dripping off the ends of the feathers.
The miles passed by, and Twilight came to walk beside him once more. He found himself very glad of her company, even though he knew he was not supposed to be. The effort of trying not to get attached had been more wearing than he realised, constantly denying himself something his subconscious desired. It had only been once she forced him to let go and accept things that he had realised just how free he suddenly felt. There was still a lot resting on his shoulders of course, a lot of lives and responsibility, but at least now there was one less thing.
He watched her with a sidelong glance, suddenly hit by the enormity of the situation. This was the first time in human history friendly contact had really been made with another race. The first two species they encountered had wanted nothing to do with them, both primitive cultures that hadn’t a thing in common. They had left them well alone. The third was their enemy. This, the fourth, was the first species capable of forming any sort of relationship with them. He felt extremely blessed, but at the same time grew despondent that very soon it would be nothing more than a memory and a bunch of data.
“Hey, Twilight,” he said suddenly, letting an impulse drive him. She turned her large, impossibly deep eyes to him. “Can we… take a picture? Of the two of us?”
“Of course,” she said, smiling widely at the suggestion. “Although I can’t say I look my best, right now. Soaked to the bone and travel weary.” She shook herself like a big dog, spraying water everywhere, including all over Riley. “Oops!”
Wiping his face clear he called Sadler, the other engineer, and handed him his communicator then, threatening him in English, said, “if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, I will personally make sure that you’re posted to the Pluto station for the rest of your career.”
The engineer grinned. “Not a word from me, sir,” he said, clearly enjoying the moment. Riley crouched down next to Twilight, who had sat on her haunches, smiling sweetly. His stomach twitched nervously, suddenly aware of everyone watching him. He moved to put an arm around Twilight’s shoulders, but she evidently thought of the same thing and had unfurled a long wing behind him, and they both ended up somewhat tangled. To his horror Sadler was already taking photos.
“Hey!” cried Rainbow Dash, plummeting out of the sky behind them. “Do me! I make pictures look awesome.”
Shortly after Applejack had galloped over as well, not about to be outdone by the other two. Before he really had time to react Riley found himself wedged tightly between the three damp ponies, grinning from ear to ear as they pulled all manner of silly faces for the camera.
“My goodness,” Twilight said afterwards as he flicked through the photos on the small display screen. “We look so tiny!”
“We can print them out onto something bigger when we get back to camp, if you’d like to keep a copy as a memento,” he said, a little sadly.
Twilight took his meaning immediately and she laid her head against his shoulder for a moment, a hint of sorrow in her voice when she spoke again. “I would like that.”
He stood up carefully, dislodging her. He found himself a little uncomfortable with her so close. His traitorous body didn’t seem to be entirely under his own control lately, and this was the very definition of getting attached.
“What do you intend to do next?” he asked her, collected and businesslike once more. It was time to get rid of his distraction. “Our path takes us west, but I believe you wanted to go east.”
“Don’t you need us?” she asked in surprise, as if she had forgotten about her plan to go to the city all along. With her soaked fur, drooping ears and big, bright eyes she looked unbearably cute. He forced himself to concentrate.
“I think we can manage from here, the crash site’s only another eight or nine hours away. And I would feel bad keeping you from your own goal.”
“If you’re sure,” she said hesitantly, looking over her shoulder wistfully at the towering pinnacle of rock in the distance, the top still shrouded in clouds. The hint of spires and buildings could be seen here and there through the mist, clustered halfway up.
He nodded, signalling to the others to move out.
“I feel bad, leaving you here,” she said, a frown on her face.
“We can look after ourselves, Twilight,” he said with a little amusement. “I think we’ve demonstrated that well enough now.”
“Friends don’t leave each other behind,” she said, pouting.
“Friends don’t drag each other into gloomy crash sites, either, not when they want to be somewhere else,” he countered. “I know how much you’ve been looking forward to seeing your Celestia, you’ve talked about her so much now I feel like I practically know her for myself.”
Twilight grinned sheepishly. “I suppose. Will you come to Canterlot once you’ve got your thingy? I think Princess Celestia would be very interested to meet you.”
“We’ll see,” he said. “If not, I’ll see you back at ground zero. Ponyville.”
Twilight reluctantly agreed once more, and he was treated to another tight, damp hug, the purple pony who was causing him so much inner turmoil jumping up at him before he could properly react. He caught her awkwardly, forced to hold her closely or she would have fallen.
“Keep safe, my friend,” she said softly after an eternity, releasing him and dropping back to all fours. “There’s still a lot of things that don’t make sense out here, and while I am going to get to the bottom of them, there might be more dangers still.”
“And you. Give my regards to your friend, and don’t worry about us. We’ll be back before you know it.”
He watched the three ponies trot off in the direction of the mountain, a wretched sadness in his heart. It was for the best, though. Twilight was too much of a distraction, and he knew he couldn’t trust himself fully when she was around. She had already broken through his defences once. In the event of another stressful situation he wasn’t so sure he would be able to stop his heart making the decisions, instead of his head.
He gave one last wave as Twilight turned to look at him and turned away to catch up with the rest of his team, heart heavy, and feeling more than a little guilty. He hoped very much that they would have an easy time on the remainder of their journey without the protection of the marines and their weapons. At least Twilight could fly or teleport herself out of danger, and he had seen how quickly Rainbow Dash could move if she needed to. Applejack was no weakling, either, her powerful kick more than a match for a lot of foes, and handy for getting out of a sticky situation in a hurry too.
He also hoped they had enough sense to know when to just run away.
It was strangely lonely without the colourful ponies with them. The marines were uncommunicative at the best of times, and Sadler the engineer was annoying him with his childish and highly unprofessional teasing. At least the rain had started to slacken off, although the long grasses and shrubs held a lot of surface water and continued to soak through their boots from below with each step.
His navigation device was indicating that they were close, although they were also running behind schedule by at least a full Earth day. The attacks in the woods and generally difficult terrain had slowed their progress considerably and they had overestimated how quickly they would be able to move with so much equipment. In particular, he had overestimated how quickly he would be able to move. Riley was fairly confident by now that he was the slowest member of their group, although of course nobody would accuse him of it. Even skinny Sadler seemed to have more stamina.
At last the clouds overhead began to thin, occasional breaks letting the bright ‘midday’ sun through. Its rays were warm and went some way toward helping the soggy group dry out, although Riley’s boots still squelched with each weary step forwards.
They were climbing steadily by now, picking their way up a rocky slope. Spindly pine trees were scattered all around them and small streams trickled between rocky gullies here and there, fast flowing and swollen by the recent rain. Dappled light flickered through the trees, forming intricate patterns of light and shadow across everything. The world smelled fresh and sharp, aromatic plants all around.
The trees started to close in around them and the incline steepened, the air growing closer. Riley wished he were back at the camp. It was dry and warm there.
“Sir,” one of the marines said quietly, pointing ahead. Riley sighted along his outstretched arm, optics working to detect whatever it was the man’s keen eyesight had picked out. “Halfway up the trunk, sir.”
Riley squinted, unable to see anything. Was the soldier mistaken? During the last twenty minutes or so the forest had drawn very close. It was only natural for memories of the horrors they had faced in the woods outside of the town to resurface, and set everyone on edge. It didn’t necessarily mean…
Movement!
He tensed, eyes straining to catch whatever it was. “Just a bird,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Can’t see no birds, sir,” the marine said slowly, his voice low and foreboding. Riley swallowed, not taking his eyes off the spot.
He lost track of how long they stood staring at the same tree, the other six stealthily creeping closer and closer until they were arranged in a tight group, all spooked by the silence and unseen or imagined enemy. The rustle of something directly above them had all but a couple turning suddenly to look. Riley was glad he hadn’t un-holstered his weapon, or he felt sure he would have shot at the noise.
A large squirrel of some kind scurried along a branch, leaping expertly from its swaying tip into a neighbouring tree. Ridley relaxed, a ridiculous urge to laugh bubbling up from deep inside. The moment quickly passed, however. Whatever he had seen, that shimmering, indistinct shape, that had not been a squirrel, and it spelled bad news for them, he was sure.
The group forged forwards into the ever thickening trees, still climbing upwards. From a distance the hill had looked small, particularly compared to the towering mountain range that stretched up behind, sharp peaks clawing at the sky above. Now they were on the face of it, however, it was much harder going. Riley didn’t have a whole lot of experience with long hikes, his life had mostly involved the insides of laboratories, factories and space-craft. Most of the exercise he did was on repetitive machines during the long transits, not this uneven, treacherous ground.
The team was keeping extremely alert. The sun had set low enough that its rays did not penetrate to the ground any longer, the tall pine trees making sure of that. The forest floor was sinking into gloom, the shadows growing big enough to swallow all manner of terrifying imagined monsters.
Riley was not enjoying the deeply unfamiliar sensation of true fear. Humankind had already found the monsters from space, they were warlike and very dangerous, but they weren’t really scary anymore. One didn’t have to fear them on a misunderstood primeval level, merely on a logical level. Having grown up with the constant threat of attack from an insect-like race of space-aliens had stopped him really being afraid of anything worse. There was nothing scary about monsters.
The ones on this cursed planet were another matter entirely. For a start, they didn’t make sense, which meant all preconceptions of what to expect were entirely thrown out. Anything could come at them, with any mode of attack.
They were torn between making fast progress or careful observation. So far military training was winning and the marines were keeping calm and steady, three at a time moving forward while the other three kept a vigilant watch all around. Riley and Sadler were keeping as close to them as possible, eyes aching from the strain of trying to watch everything at once.
He was, he admitted, actually pleased that Twilight and the other two weren’t with them any longer. Twilight had built an image of him, and the humans in general, as being fearless, brave and strong, unfazed by even the worst horrors her planet could spawn. Part of him was secretly bathing in the mild adoration and didn’t want to dispel the vision, to show weakness in front of them. In front of her.
At the same time, he longed very much for their presence. The growing fascination with the lavender unicorn he had been trying so hard to avoid would have been an excellent distraction, and who knows, maybe she would have simply told him they were fairy-tree-sprites or something, and were completely harmless. Then they could avoid all this.
“Arg!” he nearly yelled, stifling his shout at the last moment into a muffled grunt. A gnarled, leafless branch had pulled at his hair, scraping along his scalp and startling him. The limb swayed back and forth in a smug sort of way and he glared at it.
“Riley, perhaps we should call a rest,” came Sadler’s nervous voice from behind him. The man had become a lot more tolerable once the fear had stopped him from behaving like an irritating schoolchild. As much as he didn’t want to agree with the other engineer Riley had to admit that it had been a while since they had stopped moving, and the need for constant vigilance was extremely wearing.
He called the marines back and they sat in a tight outward facing circle, munching on nutrition bars and sipping their water, rifles across their laps and armed. Riley fancied he spotted one of the older soldiers sipping from something a bit stronger, but he couldn’t find the will to fault him. All around the forest was quiet, the gentle patter of leaves and twigs occasionally falling and the creaking of wood against wood as the very slight breeze moved the tall trees. Every now and again there’d come a light scuffling sound as a small rodent or other forest animal went about its business. The air was still and oppressive. Nobody dared speak, for fear of disturbing the eerie calm.
Riley fancied he could hear his own heartbeat, it was certainly very loud. Spots of light and dark pulsated around the periphery of his vision if he focused on one place too long, and he willed his body to slow down and calm itself. The feeling of something waiting was unbearable, a tension that manifested itself as a taste in his mouth.
For something to do he checked his device, horrified to see they had been moving the wrong way. He fumbled with the controls, beginning to panic, how had it happened? He had checked it only half a mile back, he was sure. His mouth felt dry. No matter, we’ll just head back.
“Gotta take a leak,” one of the marines announced, breaking the silence.
Whatever spell Riley had felt himself falling under was suddenly broken, and he looked up, nodding. The marine disappeared behind a tree, and Riley hazily remembered horror stories he had read or watched movies of. The group would slowly dwindle, one by one, picked off when they were separated. Nobody should go anywhere alone, that was the message.
He was about to call the marine back when the man shuffled back into view, un-eaten or dismembered, and Riley let out the breath he had taken to yell, turning it instead into a deep sigh. He had never felt so on edge, so tense.
“Come on,” he said shakily, checking their heading again. “We need to keep moving, if we can find the ship perhaps we can shelter there. There’s a long night coming.”
“Hey!” came a voice through the forest, clear and loud, and speaking common English. Everyone looked to the sound, searching the gloom for whoever was out there. “Hey! Over here!”
“Survivors!” Riley cried excitedly, standing up. “Where are you?”
“Over here!” came the reply, and suddenly a light was shining, dim but visible through the trees. “Hey!”
Riley headed for the light, his team following closely.
“Millie?” one of the marines, Reynolds, said, his gun drooping as he squinted forwards. “That you, babe?”
Riley still couldn’t see anything and he tried to follow the man’s gaze. “Who is it?”
“It’s my wife,” he replied in a matter-of-fact way, as if she was often to be found wandering forests on alien planets. Riley tried to recall if she was in service and had been on the downed ship. “Millie, wait!”
“Reynolds, there’s nobody there,” Riley said as the light faded. It reappeared a short way off and before he knew it Reynolds was running after it. “Stop!”
He took off after the man but in the gloom something caught his foot and he began to fall, rolling onto his side as he had been taught and coming back up on the other side. Reynolds was sprinting like a man running for his life, far off in the trees already. The light was moving fast, too, skipping through the forest and stirring up the fallen needles as it went.
The others were cautiously starting after him, but they were too slow and they soon lost sight of the man.
“Reynolds, do you copy,” Riley snapped into the radio sewn into his collar as they charged forwards. “Reynolds, come in immediately.”
There came no reply, and the dim, yellow light was no longer visible, only the darkness all around.
“Shit,” Riley swore, spinning around to check the positions of the other men. They were soon close to him, panting to recover their breath. One was missing. “Where’s Sadler?”
The marines looked around blankly, clearly just as spooked as he was. Riley called the engineer’s name over and over, but there was no reply, only the lonely hiss of background noise picked up by the antenna. From above them came a crackle of branches and a shower of needles rained down on them. All five marines pointed their rifles up into the tree in an instant, but there was nothing there, the pencil-thin beams of light from the barrel-mounted torches skipping around wildly.
Another rustle from a nearby tree, then silence.
“This is fucked up, sir,” one of the men said nervously, swinging his light around in a wide arc, illuminating only a tiny part of the forest at any one time.
“Focus,” Riley said sharply. “We keep together. We move slowly, nobody gets separated, clear? Do not leave the group, not for anything, not even if you see your dying mother on the ground.”
“Yessir,” the man said, gripping his weapon tighter, his eyes darting from place to place like a trapped animal’s.
They shuffled forwards, Riley following the pointer on his navigation device with single-minded focus, the soldiers scanning their lights wildly all around them. Riley was dimly aware he should be doing something more, taking control of them somehow, instilling obedience and military calm, but it was all he could do to avoid soiling himself at that moment.
The man facing behind them suddenly let out a blood curdling scream and the sound of gunfire dropped them all to their knees, lights wavering wildly as they tried to see their enemy. The solider was firing on full automatic, not letting up. The strobing light from the barrel of his gun blinded them all and threw the world around them into something like a stop-motion movie. Shadows flickered around them, darting between trees, barely seen, mostly imagined.
His clip empty the solider threw the gun to the ground and began fumbling around with his belt. Everyone was shouting, Riley included. With a clink a small metal canister disappeared into the darkness, and immediately came bouncing back at them, landing in the needles beside their feet.
“Grenade!” screamed one of the men and five of them dived out of the way as an explosion blew splintered wood and earth at their backs, stinging their skin.
Riley’s ears were ringing, a high pitched sound that left everything else sounding thin and insubstantial. His head swam, and he was vaguely aware of disorientated shouting.
“Regroup! To me, to me,” he yelled, his voice strange in his own ears. Nobody came, and he kept shouting, stumbling around half blind in the darkness until he tripped over something and fell into the dirt.
“Sir!” came a call through the dark and he looked up, spotting three wavering torchbeams.
“Over here,” he called weakly, sobbing in fear. Strong arms pulled him upright.
“Sir, we’ve lost McKenzie. Brundle’s dead, fell on his own grenade.”
Up above them there came a violent rustling again, and Riley bit back a whimper. This time there came a sibilant hiss as well, and Riley slowly looked up, afraid of what he would see. Two dim white flashes looked back at him, set in a pale, gaunt face, not more than a yard from him, hanging from the tree. Immediately it was gone, another rustle of leaves marking its passing. It was so quick, and so dark, he could easily have imagined it, but he knew in his soul that he hadn’t.
“I saw it,” he whispered, shaking all over. “It’s hunting us.”
“Sir, we can’t stay here. Move.” When Riley stayed rooted to the spot the marine pushed him hard in the chest and yelled to go. He snapped out of it, flicking his wrist to activate the navigation marker again and running as fast as he had ever tried to run in his life. Behind him the three remaining soldiers thundered after him, guns over their shoulders as they powered forward, not stopping to look back or to do anything other than put one foot in front of the other.
Riley had no idea how long they had run like that, and it was an incredible thing that they managed it in the dark without falling. Instead thin branches tore at their clothes and scratched their faces and arms, almost like a thousand tiny arms trying to hold them back.
They found the crash site eventually, bursting out into a clearing made of smashed trees with the blood pounding in their temples and breath coming in ragged gasps. There was evidence of fires, set alight by the hot engines of the crashed ship. Through the trees he could see another trail parallel to it, slightly less burnt but just as flattened. The second ship, sent out to rescue the first.
The site appeared deserted, makeshift tables and crates set out around the ruined ship, a gaping hole torn in its side where the entire spaceframe had torn in two upon impact. To Riley’s intense relief there were several floodlights on poles spread around the area, still alight and producing an inviting pool of light amongst the sea of darkness. Off to one side of the site there was a line of graves, freshly dug but not filled. He dared to go closer, wondering why they bothered if they weren’t going to use them. No doubt these were for the men who died in the initial crash.
As he drew closer he realised that they weren’t freshly dug. They had been filled, and something had dug them up again and taken the bodies out. Scuffed trails were visible in the leaves and dirt on the ground – they had been dragged away into the treeline. He shuddered, suddenly feeling very sick. With a thumping heart and sweat on his face despite the cool air, he rushed back the perceived safety of the light.
Two of the marines were standing guard outside, the third had entered the tear in the once mighty ship. The two guarding the outside looked much calmer now, alert and focused on the dark treeline.
“Ship’s clear,” Cronenberg said, stepping out of the crack. “Cockpit’s intact and defendable.”
“We take it in turns to rest,” Riley said. “One asleep, three awake. Grenades and other explosives to be stored in the ship.”
“Sir,” they nodded.
“I think whatever’s out there gets in our heads,” he said, words spilling out of his mouth in a desperate jumble to bring some normalcy back to the world. “Makes us see things, makes us panic. If we keep our wits about us, we’ll be fine. I’m sure I saw it, and it’s not very big. I bet it can’t fight, so it separates us, makes us vulnerable. Don’t give it that chance, and we can beat this thing.”
“Are we stayin’ ‘ere until daylight, sir?” Davis grunted. “Cos I sure ain’t goin’ back in them trees until the fuckin’ sun’s up.”
“We’ll miss our launch window if we don’t get back tonight,” Riley reminded him.
“I ain’t goin’ in there.”
“Can it, Davis,” Cronenberg snapped. “Commander orders it, you do it.”
“Commander doesn’t have a fuckin’ clue.”
Cronenberg pushed his shoulder angrily. “They court marshal you for that, boy.”
“Alright,” Riley snapped, suddenly afraid of a new threat. “He’s right, this is a defendable position, we hole up here for the next forty-eight hours, just hold out until daylight. We’re no use to the rest of the fleet if we die. Better take our time and get the core back than not at all.”
“Didn’t help the last crew,” said the third marine, Walas. He was crouched on the ground, almost calmly picking through the debris scattered about. “They’re gone. Lured or scared or tricked away.”
“We stay strong in the mind, and we’ll be fine.”
“I don’t see a better option,” Walas admitted after a moment’s pause.
“Okay then. I’m going to get the core, then we begin taking shifts asleep. And for god’s sake keep guard while I’m in there.”
Riley flicked his torch on and entered the gloomy interior of the ship, working his way down to the compartments above the main engines that housed the sophisticated warp technology. Somewhere in there was a working drive core, an intricate three dimensional matrix of minute superconducting elements that formed a quantum computer capable of evaluating the necessary data to power the jump through higher dimensions.
The ship was completely dead and none of the powered doors worked so his progress was slow as he had to disassemble parts just to manually wind the motors. When he finally made it to the compartment he found it tilted at the worst possible angle for working in, and the process of stripping apart the machinery with his limited field tools was painstaking.
When at last he did retrieve the metal cube that contained the clever little computer he was amazed at how small it was. It had been years since he’d had cause to hold one, and in his mind it had been bigger. That wasn’t to say it didn’t feel heavy, composed largely of the heavier elements it weighed significantly more than it looked like it should.
He packaged it in a suitable box, padding it with a spare sweater he took from the ship’s deserted sleeping quarters, and stowed it away safely in his rucksack. He swore not to take the pack off until they were safely back in Ponyville, it would be terrible if after all this he lost it.
The marines had spread the lamps out around the site more evenly, angling them outwards into the trees so that they would provide a better visible area. They’d also got some auxiliary power module up and running in the cockpit and some of the exterior cameras were functioning, giving them a good view of the rear of the spacecraft.
Holed up in the cockpit they were able to relax a little. The door was a heavy one, the entire front of this particular craft was designed to detach from the main body to form a smaller vessel that could be used as an emergency vehicle should the main craft become too damaged to fly. At first it had been a mystery as to why the crew hadn’t tried to return using it, but after inspecting the ship’s computers Riley had discovered its power unit had failed, and when he went to see why it became clear it was missing entirely, a gaping hole in the hull where it should have been, blackened around the edges.
They flipped a coin to determine who took the first sleep, and Riley came out lucky. He turned the backpack around onto his chest and lay in the captain’s chair, relaxing back into the soft fabric. Sculpted as it was to support a human during high-G entries it wasn’t the most comfortable bed, but after more than twenty-four hours without sleep he couldn’t care less.
He was woken by a scratching, banging sound that came from all around and he came to slowly, convinced he was back in college and late for something or other. The recollection of where he was, and what had happened, came rushing back in a horrible flood of memory and his eyes snapped open.
Outside it was dark, much darker than it had been before. The lamps arranged around the downed spacecraft were still burning bright, their battery packs good for weeks on a charge, and the light from them was reflected on the ceiling of the cockpit, casting the endless panels of controls and buttons into sharp relief.
The banging was intermittent, occasional scrapes coming between them. He looked around nervously, the three marines were still awake, although the tiredness in their eyes was obvious. All three were watching a small monitor intently and he rolled sideways out of the chair with a stiff groan to see what they were looking at.
His breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of the scene outside.