FIVE

- sedona -

The first thing that seeps into my awareness is how fucking bright it is.

Groaning, I go to raise my hand to cover my face— why did I forget to close the blinds again— but, my hand hits against something hard, cold, and decidedly metal.

My eyes flutter open and it takes a long second for me to realize that the bright as hell light is filtering through a small cracked glass window in front of me. I rack my brain trying to find a memory to grab onto. Raising my arms, keeping them close to my body, I go to bang on the wall in front of me, but meet no resistance as it cracks open. That is what triggers a crash of remembrance.

Oh my god, I wrecked an alien spaceship. Not only that, I put myself in a stasis pod. Who knows how long I've been asleep? Who knows where I am? Who knows if anyone else even made it? Suppressing the panic, I push against the door and the metal groans in protest.

It finally swings open and immediately crisp, frigid air rushes in to greet me. I take in a stinging breath and everything I smell is tinged with the acrid scent of burnt metal and ozone. Here's hoping that I can actually breathe this air safely.

I stumble out of the confines of the pod, my limbs heavy with exhaustion, and take in the state of the shipping crate. With the door gone and the roof ripped halfway off, I can't imagine how I actually survived this. If I had to guess, this crate and the pod are the extra protection that kept me alive, but the crate definitely looks worse for wear.

Deciding to focus on my most pressing issue, the first step for me has to be figuring out what to do about the other girls. I'm relieved to see that all seven other pods survived. From the outside, everything looks fine, but, just to be sure, I move to the pod closest to me. When I reach the metal cocoon, I smooth away the frost on the glass and sigh with relief. It's the sleeping face of Amari and she looks very much alive. Well, at least two of us made it. Time to check on the others.

I examine the other pods, one by one. By the time I finish checking, I'm shaking from the cold but feeling relief that the girls I arrived with are okay, as well as the four girls in the other pods in our crate. I feel even better when I note that all of their pod lights glow a comforting green. I glance back at my pod and see that it is the only one shining red.

After checking each pod and seeing that everyone appears to have miraculously made it safe and sound, I can breathe a bit easier. No one else is in immediate danger of waking up, which means I'm only responsible for myself, but it also means I'm left to make the big decisions by myself.

Suddenly, I get a sinking feeling as I think about the other fifty-two pods in the other crates. What are the odds that any of the rest of them would survive? I hope they're okay, or at the very least, as macabre as it sounds, I hope they died peacefully.

Pushing away the darker thoughts, I decide to focus on just the things immediately in front of me. All I feel like I can handle right now is what comes first and what comes next. Anything third or higher will have to wait its turn.

So, the first step? Figure out where I am. With that in mind, I make my way out of the protection of the leftover roof of the crate and through the open doorway. When I get outside, cold air like nothing I've ever felt whips at me as I stand trembling in my yellow scrub shorts. It's fucking cold. I think about going back in the pod, but the glass is cracked. I'm smart enough to know that means my pod is shot. It's up to me now to figure out what the hell to do about everything.

I try to make more sense of my surroundings, but it's all so fucking bright. Everywhere I look is covered in shining white snow. The only thing marring the whitescape are large rocks and the wrecked collage of pieces that were once a ship. Despite this, for a second, it all looks Earth-y and I feel a flicker of hope. But, when I look up, there are three suns in the sky, and my heart sinks back down. I scan around me and anxiety grips my chest. There are mountains, but they're red. Where the hell am I?

Moving further away from the shipping crate, my feet crunch over the snow. I try my best to ignore the fact that the rubber-soled slippers on my feet are not enough coverage for this weather. What little coverage my shoes provide is not meant for this kind of environment. Hopefully, I end this experience alive and with all of my toes.

With a sigh and another shake, I clutch myself tightly and rack my brain, fighting through the haze to remember the things I know about surviving in the wilderness. Considering most of my knowledge comes from stranded-island erotica and Discovery Planet reality shows, I feel like I might be a little screwed. But, one thing I do remember for sure is that the rules of survival start with the four essentials: Shelter, Fire, Water, and Food.

I'm focusing on shelter and fire first. I know that it'll have to get dark eventually, and if it's this cold now, then it'll be a death sentence later, so both of those will be a necessity. Looking at the pieces around me, I get to work.

A while later, I'm dragging heavy pipes across the ground towards our crate. A pipe in each hand, I lean them against the open doorway. I'd attempted to find the actual door, but that's clearly long gone. Still, I figure I can make a lean-to cover across the door, and with most of the ceiling left over, I will have created some protection from the snow. After going back for a few more poles and finding some wire cords to wrap around and bind things, I know it's time to find something to cover everything up.

Or just something to cover me because I can no longer feel my extremities, and I'm hoping that the blue tinting my fingers is just my imagination. With that in mind, I embark again to ruffle through the wreckage for something else useful.

The ‘something' ends up being a weird-looking box. I turn the completely smooth metal cube over in my hands, looking for a tab or seam somewhere to indicate where it opens, but the entire thing is smooth and shiny. I soon figure out that tossing it on the ground also does nothing.

With a frustrated sigh, I pick the thing up and run a finger down a corner, hoping to feel an indent. Instead, the thing clicks and springs open, the contents falling to the ground. I drop to my knees in the snow, snatching up the materials that fell out.

The box turns out to be exactly what I need, an emergency kit. With two thin blankets, a flashlight, and bandages, it's a start for supplies. I tuck the flashlight in the waistband of my paper-thin panties and look at the other things on the ground. There's what appears to be some kind of ointment and a package of dried grasshopper-like bugs that I remember seeing on the ship. I grimace. Times are tough, but not that tough. Yet. I set the grasshopper things back in the box carefully. It might get that bad. Who knows? I do the same with the ointment since I don't know exactly what it's for.

Overall happy with my finds, I throw one of the blankets around my shoulders and start building up my shelter. When I'm done, I have several poles tied haphazardly by cords to metal bars on the outside of the crate with one of the blankets draped over everything. It…covers things. It also shakes and makes clanking sounds every time the wind blows.

I try not to feel dejected as I stare at the lopsided structure, but it's hard not to. This will barely protect me from the elements. Plus, I can't help but think about what kind of crazy predators would appear on an alien planet with red mountains and three damn suns. What will this monstrosity do against real monsters? I shiver, but this time it isn't from the cold. I glance back at the shipping container and remind myself that the others are relying on me, so if this is what I have, I need to make do.

Quickly double-wrapping myself in my blanket, I go back to the wreckage, now a tad warmer. The blanket is surprisingly heat-insulating, probably made of some kind of special alien material. But what it can't save me from is the cold on my face. After all of the searching and building, my skin is already chapped, my lips peeling, and my feet are suffering. But wins have to be appreciated when we get them, and the majority of me is warm, so that will do for now.

My mind turns towards finding anything I can use to make a fire, but I pull up short when I pass what looks like a peculiar-looking gun. Cautiously, I pick it up and inspect it. It's all black and small, with blue lines zig-zagging along the edges. The muzzle of the gun is slightly flared at the end, which makes me wonder how big the bullets have to be.

I hold it out in front of me, point it away from myself and the shipping crate, and consider shooting it. It doesn't look like the ray guns the mantis guys had, but who knows what this gun could do. It might be a good idea to have something to protect me in case I meet any natives. I pause and frown. That is if the aliens on this planet aren't kind. They could all be perfectly nice. But, then a scary thought filters into my brain.

Is there anyone else on this planet at all?

With that thought surging me forward, I hold the gun slightly upward and pull the trigger.

***

- kuvier -

The journey forward is a difficult one, and I am tiring under the weight of the rations I packed to sustain me for many hands of days. However, I refuse to stop moving or slow down. If I saw that which crashed through the sky, someone else may have as well. I cannot be late getting there.

I cannot.

As I think this, it is as if the Great Mother wishes to communicate to me alone. She sends me a sign, the clearest that could be, high enough in the sky for me to see, but I know it is low enough that it can not be seen from the village. The message is unmistakably just for my eyes.

Up ahead, over the crest of the mountain where the valley lies, there comes a loud pop, followed by an extraordinarily bright light, like the glowing blue of foso rocks, that bursts across the sky. It shows what appears to be a simple lined icon that points straight down. I get the message from this simple illustration. It tells me where to go. It tells me I am on the right path.

It tells me that what I will discover must be meant for me and me alone.