Matt was nervous, but incredibly excited. At just nineteen years old, he was leaving the orbital station for the first time on a real mission. His heart was pounding inside his pressurized suit.
Operation Prometheus. Objective: reach the extraction base on Elora-49, a distant but strategic planet where Xenium, a rare mineral, was being mined—one that could solve Earth’s energy crisis, which had been festering for over thirty years.
But it wasn’t the Xenium that fascinated Matt. It was the adventure. The dream of exploring an unknown planet, of setting foot on soil never before touched by humanity, of living an epic journey. He wanted to reunite with his training comrades, to prove that he wasn’t just “the little simulator genius,” but a true pioneer.
— Suit up and get ready for landing! shouted an officer through the loudspeakers, his voice echoing through the metallic corridors of the main module.
Already geared up, Matt moved toward the Astra-7 capsule, his heart pounding. Just as he stepped into the cabin, a burly miner shoved him aside without ceremony.
— Move it, rookie.
Matt stepped back, irritated but silent. He frowned, then let it go without protest. No point playing the hero inside a flying coffin.
He advanced to another seat, more central, and recognized Rudy. Rudy, his former instructor. Almost like an older brother. Tall, bald, salt-and-pepper beard. A rock-solid man with a genuine smile.
— You know, you could’ve stood your ground, Rudy said while adjusting his harness.
— I’d rather avoid conflicts, Matt replied, shrugging.
— Then you’re in luck, Rudy said sarcastically. Only half of this planet wants us dead.
They exchanged a knowing smile. The tension eased slightly.
— So, ready to take the big leap?
— I’ve been waiting for this... Matt said, slightly trembling.
They chatted as the systems were checked. Rudy slipped in a few tips between jokes about the station’s freeze-dried spinach. Then his expression turned more serious.
— Avoid contact with the local fauna. The Shivenars, the Drakomites... Some are intelligent, others just hostile. None of them want us here.
Matt nodded. He discreetly activated his wrist recorder and whispered:
— Logbook. Day 1. We are preparing to land at the Elora-49 mining base. An elite team awaits us. Excitement is at its peak. End of message.
— Seatbelts fastened, countdown initiated! announced the commander.
A solemn silence settled in. Matt took a deep breath, his fingers gripping the armrests.
10… 9… 8… 4… 3… 2… 1… 0.
The Astra-7 was released.
The capsule sliced through the atmosphere, shaken violently. Tongues of fire rippled across the windows. The noise was deafening, as if the sky itself was screaming.
Matt clung to his seat, teeth clenched. Red warning lights blinked everywhere. The air reeked of burnt plastic.
Then, a violent jolt. A shrill alarm.
— Reactor 2 offline!
Matt felt his heart stop. Rudy placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
— It’s fine. Three reactors are enough. We’ve seen worse...
But his voice trembled. Barely audible under the roaring chaos.
Second explosion. — Reactor 3 offline!
Screams. Panic. The commander was shouting. The pilot activated emergency protocols. The parachutes deployed abruptly, slowing the descent.
A brief respite. Nervous laughter.
— See? Rudy said. I told you—
CRACK. A sharp sound. A sinister screech.
The main parachute had just failed.
The capsule tilted, spinning wildly in the air like an uncontrolled top, before crashing with unimaginable force.
Silence.
Matt slowly opened his eyes. A dull ringing drilled into his ears. He was hanging upside down, still strapped into his seat. A metallic taste in his mouth.
Around him: torn cables, sparks, the smell of ozone... and bodies.
He unfastened himself. Dropped heavily onto the ground. Gasped, hands trembling.
— Rudy?
He turned his head.
Saw him. Motionless. Eyes open, lifeless. Blood trickled slowly from his ears. A thin red line on his temple.
The world seemed to stop. Everything froze—his breath, his heart, his thoughts.
Matt crawled, grabbed Rudy’s suit.
— No... no... not you...
He wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Just a hoarse whisper.
Not now.
He grabbed an emergency bag, forced his way through the warped capsule door.
BOOM.
The explosion hurled him to the ground. He rolled onto the red sand of Elora-49, his face contorted in pain. His thigh was bleeding profusely—a jagged metal shard deeply embedded.
He gripped the medical kit, hands shaking. Blood was flowing. Every breath was agony.
He muttered an inventory, mechanically:
— First aid kit, flashlight, multitool knife, lighter, taser, thermal blanket, two water flasks, a pistol...
He raised his eyes toward the oppressive orange sky of Elora. He was alone. And the extraction base… was still far away.
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