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Work in Progress Wednesday: The Algol Disaster
The little ship gasped and heaved as it plunged through the atmosphere of Algol 3. He fought to keep it mostly upright. The landing gear was a hopeless dream at this point. The trees rushed up to them and the forest canopy crackled and caught fire from the hull.
They landed hard. He checked the last functioning gauges that said the atmosphere could be breathed by earthers and popped the hatch. No sense checking back in the crew compartment. It had gone dead silent when the Space Exploration Ranger ship sent green and red lasers probing across the black depths of space, slicing through the fragile metal skin that kept them safe from the void.
He'd sealed off the cockpit before all his air could be lost, but the in-rushing oxygen of Algol 3, higher than what he'd been breathing for the last day, made his head swim.
“Air, water, shelter and defense, food,” he told himself, repeating the survival lessons he had learned as a child. He checked the charge on his blaster. That was fine, so he checked the emergency rations in his belt. Those were fine too. He could live in the ship and bleed water from the tanks. He could last a month or more on that and the emergency rations.
Fatigue overwhelmed him as the adrenaline left his system. His knees buckled and he sank back into the navigator's chair. He had the presence of mind to close the hatch before he decided to go exploring later, tomorrow morning.
He slept the sleep of the completely exhausted and never knew what came and went in the Algol night.
They landed hard. He checked the last functioning gauges that said the atmosphere could be breathed by earthers and popped the hatch. No sense checking back in the crew compartment. It had gone dead silent when the Space Exploration Ranger ship sent green and red lasers probing across the black depths of space, slicing through the fragile metal skin that kept them safe from the void.
He'd sealed off the cockpit before all his air could be lost, but the in-rushing oxygen of Algol 3, higher than what he'd been breathing for the last day, made his head swim.
“Air, water, shelter and defense, food,” he told himself, repeating the survival lessons he had learned as a child. He checked the charge on his blaster. That was fine, so he checked the emergency rations in his belt. Those were fine too. He could live in the ship and bleed water from the tanks. He could last a month or more on that and the emergency rations.
Fatigue overwhelmed him as the adrenaline left his system. His knees buckled and he sank back into the navigator's chair. He had the presence of mind to close the hatch before he decided to go exploring later, tomorrow morning.
He slept the sleep of the completely exhausted and never knew what came and went in the Algol night.
no subject
Questions to you though: If you start reading a story about a trucker who gets forced off the road in an isolated location by a clearly identified somebody, resulting in a spectacular crash that pretty much turns the trucker's rig into glorified scrap metal & kills any other crew (tandem driver) aboard.....
1.) Are you not wanting to know immediately WHY the clearly identified somebody attacked the truck? ...And then apparently just left it in a heap on the side of the road?
2.) Are you not likely to be flustered if the driver in the story fails to act as you know for a fact how any real life trucker in such a situation would or should?
3.) The story failing to strike you as realistic or properly informative in the first few paragraphs... are you likely to bother continuing to read it when there are other stories available to tempt you?
no subject
But again, you have missed the words "Work in progress." That means "rough draft." All will be explained and more stuff will happen.
And you never like the beginnings of my stuff, so why should I worry?