Search Results
4/30/2025, 2:57:08 AM
>>6232073
[2/3]
Uneasily, you walk a short distance downslope to a nearby pond, the muddy ground ringing it sucking at your feet as you roughly stumble to your knees and cup several handfuls of still water into your face and rub both fresh and clotted blood from your visage. You use your newfound and very helpful ability to properly see to inspect your surroundings.
The landing site looks, at first glance, idyllic. A grassy plain with young trees interspersed every so often, bushes, wildflowers, ponds... You hear birds chirp occasionally. In the far distance you spy hills and mountain ranges that betray the first sign that this biosphere didn't occur here naturally. The oaks and evergreens on the distant mountains resemble an orchard, all evenly-grown and spaced, planted in rows by some terraforming machine decades ago in order to help drag this rock towards becoming an epitome of habitability. What you don't see is any sign of human civilization, which is very concerning, seeing as your expedition was supposed to be the second one sent to this particular planet.
You labor your way back up to the pod, sleeper sickness still pulling at your every muscle, and begin unloading the storage compartment of your pod. First come the boxes of MREs that you desperately hope are still good over half a millennia later, a big plastic jerry can full of potable water, and a box containing a the most durable-looking hand-pumped water filter you could find at the local sporting goods store. You remember vowing when choosing your emergency supplies never to be subject to the level of hunger and depravation you experienced back when you made a living fighting blue-helmets in the rocky armpit of the country. You hastily withdraw a backpack of your own containing some clothes and toiletries. Then comes the "official" emergency gear included with the pod, a small first aid kit, flare gun, hand-cranked radio, and a survival hatchet.
Then came the biggest, and most troublesome item to move, a long, black, human-sized box that resembled a hard-shell rifle case crossed with a coffin. She was inside, hopefully undamaged.
[2/3]
Uneasily, you walk a short distance downslope to a nearby pond, the muddy ground ringing it sucking at your feet as you roughly stumble to your knees and cup several handfuls of still water into your face and rub both fresh and clotted blood from your visage. You use your newfound and very helpful ability to properly see to inspect your surroundings.
The landing site looks, at first glance, idyllic. A grassy plain with young trees interspersed every so often, bushes, wildflowers, ponds... You hear birds chirp occasionally. In the far distance you spy hills and mountain ranges that betray the first sign that this biosphere didn't occur here naturally. The oaks and evergreens on the distant mountains resemble an orchard, all evenly-grown and spaced, planted in rows by some terraforming machine decades ago in order to help drag this rock towards becoming an epitome of habitability. What you don't see is any sign of human civilization, which is very concerning, seeing as your expedition was supposed to be the second one sent to this particular planet.
You labor your way back up to the pod, sleeper sickness still pulling at your every muscle, and begin unloading the storage compartment of your pod. First come the boxes of MREs that you desperately hope are still good over half a millennia later, a big plastic jerry can full of potable water, and a box containing a the most durable-looking hand-pumped water filter you could find at the local sporting goods store. You remember vowing when choosing your emergency supplies never to be subject to the level of hunger and depravation you experienced back when you made a living fighting blue-helmets in the rocky armpit of the country. You hastily withdraw a backpack of your own containing some clothes and toiletries. Then comes the "official" emergency gear included with the pod, a small first aid kit, flare gun, hand-cranked radio, and a survival hatchet.
Then came the biggest, and most troublesome item to move, a long, black, human-sized box that resembled a hard-shell rifle case crossed with a coffin. She was inside, hopefully undamaged.
Page 1