29 May 2012
He desperately needed water. For days now, he had been trapped here. Stuck inside this mechanical tomb. All power to the machine had been drained whilst in mid-flight. His small pod fell from the sky like a dead weight and crashed into the searing heat below. The controls no longer worked. His ship was upside down and trapped in the sand; the door blocked from opening. The blazing, desert sun was roasting him alive as he lay trapped inside with no supplies or any form of aid whatsoever. Even his transmitter no longer worked, as if something was blocking the signal.
He had flown down into the atmosphere of the planet, piloting one of the 'Continental Pods' that Spacers used to scout planet surfaces. Soon after, his pod's power shutdown and he began hurtling towards the surface. The pod crash landed in the midst of a desert. It was a rough landing. He was certain he had broken several ribs and he was coughing up blood. The pod's controls had been destroyed on impact, the broken circuitry lighting up the pod with random sparks of electricity.
His situation was not good. With no means of communication, water, food, nor an available exit from the pod, not to mention his injuries, he held very little hope for survival. Yet he would not give up that easy. He refused to sit idly by and let death claim him. He slammed with all his might on the reinforced, viewing glass of the cockpit. It didn't leave a scratch. He screamed, and yelled, and wailed for help despite knowing it was a futile attempt. He was in the middle of nowhere on an uncharted planet, there was probably no one around to hear him. The pod was also soundproof, no noise would ever escape its cold, claustrophobic walls. He knew this, but he tried anyway. Again, and again, he tried. He soon came to terms with the fact that there was no means of escape. No matter how hard he tried, as long as he couldn't open the pod's door, he wouldn't be getting out. He would die here.
Minutes passed. Hours, days, weeks, months. He didn't know which. Lost in delirium, he had no way of tracking time. His best guess was that he had been stuck inside the pod for at least three days. He wouldn't last much longer. The heat was unbearable. He was so thirsty. Time was running out.
On the verge of unconsciousness, he felt something. The pod had moved ever so slightly. At first he thought he had imagined it, but then it moved again. Then again and again until it felt like the pod was being dragged along the sand. This continued for a few minutes, the pod shaking and jostling him all the while. After what felt like hours, it came to a sudden stop. Terrified, he began thumping his fists on the walls around him; he needed to get out. Suddenly, he was thrown to the side as the pod shifted again, this time sideways as if someone was turning it over. It continued to twist in a clockwise direction. He soon realised something really was turning the pod.
Glaring sunlight shined down upon him as his pod was turned fully upright. He was momentarily blinded and gasped as the pod gave one final shake, bringing pain to his broken ribs. Through the veil of blinding white he tried to make his eyesight focus. All around him for as far as the eye could see was a wasteland of sand; blood red piles towering high above. It reminded him of the Sahara Desert back home on Earth with its many sand dunes. He couldn't see anyone nearby or any sign of what could have overturned his pod. Afraid to move, he took deep breaths and listened intently. He could hear nothing and he could see nothing. He relaxed into his seat. Maybe it just dislodged itself and rolled down a slope of sand... Or maybe not. To him, that would be far too lucky an escape. Things never went his way. Life was never simple.
The pod was suddenly lifted from its prison of sand and suspended into the air. It rotated ever so slowly in the same clockwise direction as before and moved towards its new bearing.
The pod was floating towards a small group of people. One man stood slightly ahead of the group and had one of his hands raised in the air in some sort of gesture. Only it wasn't a man, or at least, not completely. He had a thin, ridged-looking tail swinging back and forth behind him. On top of his head he could make out two curved antennas poking out from his hairless head, drooping forward. The hand was upturned and the fingers pointed towards the clear sky above like he was holding some sort of sphere in his hand. Only, there was no sphere. The hand, which he noticed only had three, long, thin fingers, held absolutely nothing. Instead, there was a faint, blue glow that was constantly shifting and circling the hand like a stream of energy. Wherever he moved it, the pod followed. It must have been some sort of telekinesis. People back on Earth could do similar things, but only in very rare cases and they could in no way lift an entire space pod. The most he had ever seen one do was move a pencil from one side of a table to another. He had even seen one who was able to bend spoons. That power paled in comparison to the one this creature held. It was unlike anything he had ever seen.
Crash Landing • Opuss № I