The Peregrine's hull had torn open like a crushed can. Metal plates lay scattered across alien soil, some still smoking from the friction of atmospheric entry, others twisted into shapes that made engineering degrees useless. The crash had carved a trench through the landscape that stretched back maybe half a kilometer, dirt and stone pushed into ridges on either side like someone had dragged a giant plow through the earth.
Noah stood at the edge of the wreckage, looking out at a world that made his brain itch.
