Paradise Found 7

Consciousness was starting to seep back into Blake's mind as he awoke with his head pounding and his limbs full of numbness.

"Uhhhhg," he groaned, trying to get his body to move, "Okay, that wasn't one of my better landings."

Blake slowly moved his arms and legs to make sure they still worked and were still attached to his body, each movement resulting in a twinge of pain. He knew he couldn't rush through the motions, considering the crash, but he also knew he couldn't lie on the deck forever either. He needed to get up.

"C'mon, Blake," he muttered, managing to get to his knees, "Get off the deck and move your ass; you've got work to do."

He shoved himself into a sitting position, and immediately regretted it as a wave of nausea churned through him. The ache in his head throbbed against his temples, but his equilibrium was starting to come back. His vision was clearing and he could finally make out his surroundings, focusing primarily on the condition of his ship.

All of the consoles and instruments in the shuttle cutter were dark; no power illuminated any of the controls, with a few of the panels cracked and burnt. Emergency power was still active but at a very low level, judging from how dim the emergency lights glowed around the main cabin. The surfaces of the main control panels in the flight pit were blank, as well as the view screens that surrounded them. The blast shield was still down, completely covering the forward view port.

Slowly and carefully, Blake eased himself up off the deck and managed to stand with the help of a console seat next to him. After testing his limbs and muscles, he figured he was in fair shape and not severely injured.

"Okay, first things first:" he said, moving towards the aft compartments, "restore power to the ship."

Blake stepped carefully around pieces of the interior and damaged components, and grunted with aches running through his body as he forced the doors open to the engineering compartment. The lighting was low in there as well, all of the controls dark and non-functional for the moment, as he went to the main engineering console.

Prying up the top portion of the control panel, he reached inside the guts of the console and connected the reserve batteries manually. With a couple of flashes and sputters, the controls came alive and started blinking red all over the surface.

"Yeah, yeah," Blake groused, lowering the panel back into position, "The ship's taken damage; tell me something I don't know."

Looking over the console, Blake pressed a few buttons and started the small reactor core for the hyper-light pulse drive, making sure the flow of matter and antimatter was kept low. If the core was damaged, he didn't want to take the chance of creating a breach; that would end his visit to this world in a hurry. The round reaction chamber, a three foot diameter sphere, hummed to life with its equatorial constriction band glowing a dim light blue.

Selecting more controls, Blake sighed in relief when some of the consoles around Engineering flickered and became active. He checked the power levels emanating from the reactor, 25%, and nodded.

"Okay, that will do for now," he said and went back out into the main area of the cutter. All around him, consoles were either re-engaging themselves or flickering in a stubborn manner, refusing to work. He shut down the stubborn ones as he went to the flight deck, figuring he could repair them later, and once there he was filled with both relief and disappointment.

Half of the controls that piloted the space craft were working, including the main helm console, but the other half was a mess of burned out circuits and smashed panels, one of which was the navigation computer.

"Swell," he uttered in disgust. Blake found the control for the blast shield was working and decided to take a look outside of his craft, hoping he was on a decent part of the planet's surface. The heavy slabs of protective metal parted and revealed the landscape his ship occupied.

"Wow," he said quietly as he gazed upon a comforting sight.

The area was awash with the greens and browns of a landscape close to an equatorial region of a habitable planet, just like his ship's scanners said there would be. Parts of the area were dotted with tall trees and shrubs while others were rocky and covered in sands of light and dark brownish red, with the whole scene being lit up by the rising sun in the distance. Though his view of this world was limited from the ship, it appeared to be hospitable if a bit primitive. With no artificial structures or apparent technology visible, there was no way to tell if this world was populated with intelligent beings, at least until he could get the computers working.

Blake went to the science station next, seating himself in front of the controls that were blinking and ready to use.

"Computer on," he ordered.

<'Active'> was the response flashing on the main screen above the console, making Blake blow out his breath in relief.

"Computer: activate external scanners."

<'External scanners at 68% availability; remaining percentage of scanners are not functioning'>

"Well, it's better than nothing," he mumbled, then addressed the computer again, "Scan the area around the ship with available scanners, and report."

<'Working; stand by'>

Blake sat back in his chair, tilting his head towards the view port and admiring the scene laid out before him. Vibrant colors from the flowery plant life outside showed themselves once the light from the sun beamed down upon them. He smiled, hoping that the view from outside the ship was just as good as the one from inside.

The console beeped at him and the screen flashed <'Preliminary report available'>.

"Run report." At Blake's command, the computer gave him a rundown of what the ship's scanners could detect, listing all important factors pertaining to his survival on the planet surface, mainly the atmosphere. All the proper elements were present in the air around the ship, a little richer in oxygen content but basically the same atmosphere as on his own planet along with the right amount of air pressure and temperature at a rather warm but comfortable 30 degrees Celsius.

"At least I'll be able to breath, that's a comfort."

The list went on, noting the surrounding landscape contained plant life that was heavier in chlorophyll than the ones he was use to, their green coloring a bit darker than 'normal'. There was an abundance of water on the surface, even in the region he was in which was close to desert terrain according to the earlier scans he made before landing.

"No... get it right, Blake; before you 'crashed'."

He tried to land the ship when the planet came into view, but the damage his craft sustained was severe enough to force him to ditch. He was aiming for a sea that was connected by a narrow strait to a moderate sized ocean, but his navigational computer was damaged and he missed it by about one hundred kilometers. He settled for an area that was reasonably level and hit the ground with a bone jarring thud, skidding to a stop. The impact threw him out of the flight pit chair and slammed him into the ceiling, then into the floor in the middle of the main deck where he lost consciousness.

<'Preliminary report complete; continuing scan for full analysis. Full report will be available in one hour, forty-two minutes'> the screen blinked, stating that for all practical purposes it was safe for Blake to exit the ship and survive on the surface of the planet.

"Proceed," Blake answered, adjusting some of the station's controls, "Computer: status report of main systems."

<'Working; stand by'>

Blake waited for a second or two, then the screen listed the damage his ship sustained, before and after the crash. He rubbed at his eyes, trying not to let the nightmare of what happened flash through his brain and failed. He couldn't believe his government, as well as their opposite number, went that far into their mutual hatred for each other.

Despite all the advancements their species developed, chief among them was hyper-light velocity on their space fleets, the seeds of hate and mistrust continued to spread its ugly weeds across their home world. Like two squabbling children, the two major governing powers of their planet kept their rhetoric of bigotry, prejudice, and petty differences going. They continued to argue and fight over the natural energy resources of their world, even though the fairly new matter-antimatter energy generators made them all obsolete.

Finally, just a day ago, the two sides decided to end their conflict with an all out war. Both parties divided up the fleet and started bombarding their countries from space with photon cannon fire, along with a generous portion of antique atomic missiles, effectively destroying the entire surface of the planet. Once done, the fleets turned on each other and wiped out their respective armadas in record time, leaving nothing but debris orbiting a dead world.

A few managed to escape the carnage, defying orders and simply leaving the area of space, Blake being one of them. With his own star cruiser breaking up around him and the rest of the crew, he ran across the hangar deck and jumped into the first shuttle cutter that was available. Even though he was only an ensign, and a fairly new one at that being only twenty years old, he logged enough hours in shuttles to pilot one whether he was authorized or not. Though he was the only one on board, twenty three others, out of a crew of four hundred, managed to make it off the ship before it was blown to bits. Each tiny craft set its own course, peeling off in different directions and leaving the foolish war behind them. Blake wished them 'good luck', and that was the last time he saw any of them again.

The cutter he piloted, made to hold and sustain a crew of ten, was sturdy enough but not invulnerable. Debris from the destroyed cruiser slammed into the hull before he activated the hyper-light drive, knocking his ship slightly off course. For the better it turned out; he never would have made it to this world if he tried to correct the course he originally set. He would have found himself in the middle of nowhere had the piece of debris that collided with him not alter the course for him.

Tears welled up in his eyes as the images of his home paraded themselves in front of him, the result of selfishness on the part of some, downright idiocy with others. He saw chunks of his planet being blasted away, killing millions in an instant, with the greens and browns of the lands being scorched black by the fire of photon blasts from orbit. The deep blues of the oceans were being choked by putrid browns and grays of ash left over from the battle, evaporating in some places. And the glow of flaming cities lighting up the skies, whole metropolitan areas burned to a cinder and smoldering in a radioactive Hell.

Seven billion people, dead... in less than thirty minutes. The ones aboard the fleets of ship... gone an hour later.

With the exception of those that managed to escape, and not knowing if anyone else got away, from either side... as far as he knew, he was alone.

Blake angrily blinked the tears out of his eyes as the computer finished listing the ship's damage, and scoffed at the one piece of information he didn't want to see.

"Figures," he grumbled.

With a huff, Blake got out of his chair and opened a storage locker, pulling out a utility harness and clipping on gear he thought he would need for the time being. With a porta-scanner clipped on one side and a blaster weapon on the other, he opened the airlock door and cycled the antechamber to equalize the pressure of the ship to match the outside atmosphere. The ready light flashed green, and the outside door parted with a metallic click.

Blake took a tentative step outside and stopped to take an experimental breath, even though the computer said the air was fit to breathe. Holding the breath he took, he paused for a moment and then exhaled slowly; he didn't feel any abnormal reaction and concluded that the computer was right... this time. The next thing he did was walk out in front of his downed craft and scan the area with his own eyes.

"Oh, my," he whispered, his hunch from earlier correct.

The outside view wasn't just as good, it was better. The land was a mixture of plants, of all shapes, sizes, and colors, and low geological rock formations colored with different combinations of element compounds, from red to gold to browns. Off to the west of his position, a wide desert could be seen tinted with light and dark sands. And to the other direction a vast array of fields and flora was visible, with all the colors of the spectrum dazzling his sight. Ahead of him was again a mixture of terrain with low lying hills way in the distance, colored the same as the rock formations around him, about the same view was offered behind him.

He looked up at the shining sun the planet was orbiting, a dwarf star compared to his own home star, blazing a bright yellow instead of a dull yellowish orange. He smiled at the heat raining down on him and the garden-like terrain that sprawled out before him, the air filled with the scent of growing things.

But his smile disappeared as the sight of his ship presented itself.

The whole port side of the craft was a collage of black streaks and scorch marks of dark gray, the hull surface pitted with impact dents. A couple of exterior panels were ripped away, probably upon impact with the planet surface, exposing wires and conduits that were torn from the equipment they used to be hooked to. And when he got to the rear of the ship, all he could say for the moment was, "Aw, shit."

Over half of the port side engine nacelle was gone, ripped off due to the stress of entering the planet's atmosphere and gravity well. The computer warned him that the engine had taken damage before he made the jump into hyper-space but, with huge chunks of destroyed cruiser hurling at him, he didn't have a choice. The cutter disappeared in a smear of stretched rainbow light and leaped away from the dangerous debris at faster than light speeds, stressing the damaged engine even further. He had a hard time piloting the weakened craft down after pieces of the housing fell off, and was lucky the ship made it to the ground in one piece after the main portion of the engine broke away... well, more or less.

Hands on his hips in frustration, Blake just mumbled, "Well, as the old saying goes: 'Any crash you can walk away from is a good one'," and shook his head, knowing there was no possible way of repairing the mangled engine nacelle, and the remaining engine was not enough to lift the ship off the surface and back into space. Giving up, he added, "Okay, looks like I'm here to stay... for now."

After checking out the rest of the ship and finding only minimal damage to the other side of the thirty-five by fourteen foot shuttle cutter, Blake went back inside to continue his mandated survival directives. He secured his surroundings for the time being, he managed to get main power up and running (albeit at half strength), he checked through the ship's provisions and found enough consumables to last him for months (if necessary), now was the time for the next thing on the checklist: communications.

Blake looked over the comm station and, finding only a few burnt out controls, activated the emergency distress beacon, which normally would have snapped on automatically if the ship's life sensors detected no one moving on board. Blake was unconscious for awhile but, during times of war, the computer wouldn't allow any signal sent out without the consent and/or orders of the crew and needlessly give away their position.

Once the beacon started flashing its alert, Blake hit the 'open comm link' control and spoke into it.

"Shuttle cutter Atlantia to any Alliance ships; respond, please."

Static and warbled distortions filled the audio speakers; he tried again, adjusting the frequency.

"This is the shuttle cutter Atlantia to any ship in the vicinity; respond."

Again, static.

"Damn," he growled, not knowing whether any ship was within range or if the comm systems themselves were working properly, even though the computer said the system was functioning. For a moment, he considered using the comm badge clipped to his collar but decided against it; if he couldn't reach anyone through the ship's comm unit, which was more powerful, his smaller collar unit wouldn't have a hope in Hell of contact. Not wanting to waste any time speaking into the comm for hours on end, Blake hit 'record' and dictated a message.

"This is Ensign Blake of the Alliance Star Cruise Tigress to anyone who receives this message: I am one of a handful of survivors that escaped the destruction of our ship during a planetary war involving the governments of our home world. Our planet has been destroyed, our fleets have been wiped out as far as I know, and this world I've crash landed on doesn't seem to have any intelligent life on it, to the best of my knowledge."

"I am sending out a general distress signal in the hope that someone will receive it, and my coordinates are encoded in this transmission. I will broadcast this message as long as I am able, or until the power that's left in my ship is depleted. This planet will sustain my life for the time being, and I will wait for your response as long as I can. Please render any assistance you can upon receiving this message."

Blake stopped the recording and hit 'transmit', making the message repeat itself over and over and coordinate its efforts with the distress beacon. He then hit the control that opened the log entries and started the journal that would be his life on this world for as long as it took.

"Ship's log, 16:35 hours, day 1: I am Ensign Blake, hangar deck officer aboard the Alliance Star Cruiser Tigress... or, at least I was."

"My home world, Terria, has been destroyed by the insane acts of some of our government officials. Their selfish and arrogant nature scorched the surface of our planet, using ground based atomic and orbiting ships' weapons, and left the entire population dead within a matter of minutes. Our respective fleets attacked each other after the devastation and destroyed every last cruiser as far as I know."

"I, along with about twenty others, escaped our star cruiser before it was destroyed and left the battle area before we became casualties. I know it was wrong, abandoning our posts and our duties, but since our world is gone and our fleets are wiped out, I doubt if anyone in authority is alive to punish us for desertion."

"I don't know if any of my fellow crew mates are alive, but I've managed to make it to this world relatively intact. My cutter was damaged when the Tigress blew up and knocked my navigation computer out of whack. If it hadn't, I might have ended up no where near a planet, let alone a habitable one."

"This world is rated Class A, one of eight in this star system that's approximately fifty-eight light-years from my home system... well, nine if you count the small planetoid in an erratic orbit at the outer edge. The four large planets are gaseous, all of them with dust and ice rings; the four inner planets are rocky and solid, only one of them habitable."

"This world, the third in the system, orbits a yellow dwarf star and it and the planet aren't really all that different from my home system. Although this sun is smaller and there are alterations of plant shapes on the surface, this planet is remarkably similar to my home world, with its lighter blue sky and darker green foliage being only a few of the exceptions."

"I have sent out a general distress signal and message to anyone that can hear it; I doubt that any of my people, from either side of the conflict, will receive it. As far as I know, they're all dead... and I'm alone on this planet. I will rest and bunk down for the night, and tomorrow I will scout this new world and analyze its life forms whether plant or animal... or sapient. I've yet to see any evidence of intelligent life."