CHAPTER 5: CONTACT

His boots sank slightly into the powdery sand, a fine layer of ash and dust shifting beneath him. The bruises on his ribs flared with pain as he straightened. Nothing broken. Lucky.

The world around him was endless and empty. Sand and rock, stretching in every direction. Pale cliffs loomed in the far distance, barely visible through the haze, but there was nothing else. No plants. No movement. No life.

Except—

He squinted. Three hundred meters out, something gleamed in the dull light.

A wreck.

It was old. The hull was battered, half-buried in the sand, its once-sleek plating pitted and scarred. It wasn’t a ship, not a full-sized one. A drone lander, maybe? Sent down for reconnaissance, for mapping, for science. If it was here, that meant the ship carrying it never made it back.

He exhaled, slow and steady. He was lucky.

His own wreck was in bad shape, but he hadn’t needed to worry about burning up on entry. The Icarus had barely held together, but it had done its job.

Not that it mattered now.

He turned back to his ship, assessing the damage. The cockpit was crushed inward, the thrusters were dead, the undercarriage was half-buried in sand. Nothing to salvage. He hadn’t packed survival gear. He was supposed to be out for a few hours of orbital recon, not making an emergency landing on an uncharted world.

All he had was his flight suit.

And one bottle of water.

Elias sighed, rolled his shoulders, and started walking.

The trek to the wreck was slow. The sand shifted unpredictably beneath him—soft in some places, packed hard in others. The wind was steady, not violent, but it never stopped. It curled around his ears, caught in the folds of his suit, carried the scent of something dry, something ancient.

He reached the wreck and circled it once. The lander was split down one side, hull plating peeled back like something had tried to claw its way out. The insignia on its side was half-scraped away, but he could still make out the faded letters of the survey program.

He braced his hands against the warped hull and shoved against the outer hatch.

Nothing.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

He stepped back, scanned the wreck again. A secondary access panel. He crouched, fingers brushing away sand, finding the manual override. It was stiff, nearly fused shut, but after a few forceful yanks, the hatch gave way with a sharp metallic groan.

Something inside hummed to life.

Elias froze.

A soft whirring. Then a click-click-click—like servos cycling up after a long sleep.

Lights flickered inside.

Then, something moved.

He barely had time to step back before a small, hovering droid popped out of the wreckage. Dark metal chassis, spherical central body, two thin stabilizing arms. It adjusted mid-air, then fixed a glowing blue eye directly on him.

Silence.

Then, in a flat but unmistakably annoyed voice—

"What the hell are you doing here?"