Chapter 2

Sabine

For the record, no, I had never flown a shuttlecraft, and I wasn't flying it now. The vessel I was in was fairly large for one person, but I felt it was filled with enough medical equipment to set up an effective medical clinic in Thrail Sakra, where I was headed. I sat in the operator seat, not touching anything, as I had been strictly told. My trip was supposed to take no more than an hour and a half, from the large freighter ship that delivered me out here, to my destination on the planet's surface.

The vessel was preprogrammed to deliver me to the correct landing pad and so far, the shuttle was flying along just fine, although I had to say, it wasn't one of the newest models. It had some dents and had been patched up in spots where it looked like it had been shot. I was oblivious to the functioning of the ship and was reading the health histories of my soon-to-be patients.

Overall, the population I would be caring for was healthy. Most of the children born of human mothers and Mitran fathers were in good health, but that was likely to change as more babies were born. Statistically, there would be problems. They needed care and the leadership of this particular Thrail had been resistant to modern medicine. I had been told to expect some resistance, or at the very least, resentment, from the leaders of the city—and it was fair to call this Thrail a city. The Thrail was huge, large enough to house thousands, and it did a busy export of certain goods.

My shuttle coasted smoothly over the planet. I looked outside now and then, but there was nothing much to see. The landscape was dull—mostly brown and red with occasional patches of vegetation. None of it looked very hospitable. I'd been told that the Thrail I was going to existed in a forest. I saw no signs of a forest so I assumed there was a distance yet to go. I was thinking about hitting the replicator for a cup of tea when a light turned on.

The control panel in front of me was pure mystery. I'd been told not to touch it and so I didn't, but the blinking red light didn't look right. It was accompanied by a low beep that also wasn't an ideal sound to hear when one was in a spacecraft.

But I didn't panic. This sort of thing probably happened all the time. Maybe the light and sound indicated that the shuttle was descending. I looked out the front bay of windows. I was going down, but there was no forest in sight. I frowned, wishing I had some idea what the instrument panel's display read. It was all in a language I didn't understand.

The lower I went, the more I realized that the ship was being pulled downward. The vessel shook and bucked, seeming to try to resist. Was I caught in a tractor beam? I didn't know what to make of this. I got up and hastily put on the crash suit that had been stored in a compartment. I was told during travel orientation to put it on with the helmet in the case of an emergency. This, I was sure, qualified.

My hands shook as I pulled on the suit. I was usually perfectly happy to be in my own company, but this was one instance when I wished I wasn't alone. A person who knew how to fly a shuttle would be a perfect companion right now. I'd even take an asshole who talked about himself the whole time. Anything would be better than being here by myself with the noises the shuttle was making and the rising panic in my head.

"Okay, Sabine," I said aloud to myself. "It's going to be okay." I sat back in the seat and looked out as the ground grew closer. At least the shuttle wasn't plummeting. It looked as if a shimmering membrane was below, or perhaps it was just atmosphere conditions. But no, it was something because when the vessel passed through it, everything changed. Suddenly, instead of a rocky, barren planet, a lush landscape covered the surface in an explosion of color.

I blinked, not believing what I saw. Whatever the ship had passed through—a force field or artificial dome—had transported the ship and me to this place. And it looked as if I were going to crash-land here very soon.

Finally, the ship decided to tell me what was going on. "Attention. Attention. Brace for impact in thirty seconds. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight…" And so on.

Brace for impact?I let out a curse, clipped my safety straps in place, and resigned to the fact that I was going to have to listen to a calm, relaxing countdown to my doom. I drew my knees up to my chest and hugged them.

"…Fourteen…Thirteen…Twelve."

I didn't even know how to send out a distress signal. They should've at least included that in the safety orientation.

"Four…three…two…"

And one. I took a breath and thought of the patients I would never get to see. The pure chaos that would erupt because a doctor sent to this planet had crashed. Then, I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the worst. The shuttle bumped and shook as it rammed through trees. There was a flash of color as the ship was enveloped in vegetation.

There was a jarring slam as the shuttle hit the ground. The lights in the console blinked on and off a few times, then went out. Smoke curled from the display panel's edges, and the whole ship seem to let out a hiss, although it reminded me of a sigh of relief, as if this vessel was glad to finally be done carrying people and their stuff all over the galaxy.

But I wasn't dead. I uncurled enough to look out. I was shaken and sore from the jolt, but the ship was basically intact and so was I. We hadn't crashed at a high enough speed to destroy anything. Not that that helped. I was still stuck here. If there was a way to repair the ship, I didn't know what it was. Everything on the control panel was dark and silent. I should've gotten that cup of tea from the replicator before this happened.

With the ship seemingly dead, I checked the cargo bay to see the state of my equipment. Maybe it was silly of me, but I still felt responsible for it. And I was sure I'd be rescued or I'd find a simple way to a Mitran Thrail. These ships had tracking systems in them. Maybe the Mitrans would just swing by and pick me up.

The equipment appeared intact and undamaged. All the crates were still strapped down to their pallets and appeared to be fine. Well, that was one less thing to worry about. I stepped over some scattered debris. A piece of the overhead light had fallen off. The exterior hatch appeared to have no power, as I learned by jamming my finger to the pad beside the door to no avail. I had to crank it open by hand.

Since I was on Mitra—I assumed—the air was breathable, but just in case, I double-checked the latch on the helmet and made sure my suit was secured. I cracked open the door and peeked outside. It was an alien jungle, and for me, someone who spent most of her time in sterile white buildings, it was senses overload. Plants of every conceivable color burst around me. The plant life alone looked like works of art. Flowers and leaves shone in jewel tones. Some were as transparent as stained glass, others as rich and vivid as a painter's pigments. Thick trees with shimmering onyx-colored bark soared up to a brilliantly hued sky. It definitely was not the sky color seen elsewhere on Mitra, which was red, except for in the morning.

Of course, it could all be deadly. I had no idea and no way to find out. I had devices that would help me evaluate Mitran plants, but none of these looked like anything I'd studied. If I didn't know better, I'd think I'd been transported to another planet.

Maybe I had been.

I stepped out of the shuttle hesitantly. My helmet's visor offered a digital analysis on one side of my view. It analyzed the environment and indicated that the air was ideal for breathing and the temperature was well within a livable range. It was safe to take off the helmet, and I did so, partially because I wanted to smell some of these flowers and also because the processed air in the suit smelled like feet.

Sure enough, I breathed in richly scented air. The scent of a dozen different flowers moved through my senses. I stood there for a moment as the sun filtered through the thick canopy above and trickled down to the surface like drops of light. I couldn't remember ever being in a more beautiful place. And I also couldn't remember being so scared.

I had a disabled shuttlecraft with no power. There were probably some rations somewhere in a compartment, but the replicator would be dead and I had no way of sending out a communication. My only chance was the Mitrans finding me, and I didn't like the sick curl in my stomach that quietly asked in my head, What if they can't find you?

I went right back inside the shuttle and closed the hatch. Then, I sat back down in the operator seat and started to go through my options. They weren't great. In fact, they were terrible.

I could wait it out in here. Find the rations and hope they didn't run out, or I could go out there and try to figure out how to survive in this strange world. I had no training or experience in the latter. If only I had some survival training. I could probably figure out how to start a fire using the cauterizing device I had, but I'd need to find water.

I could use the shuttle as a shelter and that took care of one big basic need right there. Even better, the shuttle had a lock, in case any hungry creatures came out at night in a place like this. Surely something interesting lived here. Something that might see a being like me as food.

"Okay, this has to go." The crash suit was already feeling uncomfortably warm from the heat and humidity slipping in. I pulled it off and rubbed my hands over my face. I couldn't rely on the Mitrans to rescue me. Hopefully they would, but I couldn't rely on it. The only thing I could count on for sure was myself and I was used to doing that. I was good at doing that.

I went to the storage crates and released the clamps from the one that contained my handheld medical devices. It held ten of them, all for different things ranging from toxins to temperature to bioelectrical output. Admittedly, there were a few I barely used. I chose one with the widest range of uses. I had never used any of my devices for this purpose—testing an environment for noxious plants and fungi, but it could be done. It had to be done.

I powered it up and changed the parameters to a wide-band scan to test for basic toxic substances. I'd charged my devices before we left, which meant this one had a full charge and eighty hours of use in it. It was a good start. I was wearing a simple travel outfit—a soft, long-sleeve shirt and snug black pants with boots that came up past my ankle. I rolled up my sleeves, and wished I had thicker, more durable clothes. My clothes were made for comfort, and I'd planned on buying more at the Thrail.

Nevertheless, I had what I had and I'd make the best of it. I opened the hatch and stepped out of the shuttle, into my new, temporary—hopefully—home. I'd find a way to survive for as long as I had to. With any luck, I wouldn't be here long.

I lowered the scanner to the first plant I saw—a bush of red stems tipped with white, teardrop-shaped blooms. The view screen on the scanner listed one well-known, but non-deadly, toxin and three compounds that were simply bad for digestion.

"Off to a great start," I muttered and moved onto the next. Surely there was something to eat in this forest that wouldn't kill me. I'd gotten through only twelve plants when I noticed the low-power alert. That was strange. The device had been fully charged. Now, it showed only minutes of use left.

I smacked the scanner lightly with my palm because, honestly, that sometimes worked. It didn't this time. The power level continued to drop, before turning dark entirely. I looked from the dead device to the dead shuttle and swallowed past the sick, sinking feeling in my gut. Something was wrong with this place and I was stranded in it.