Chapter 9: Survivor
Coain opened his eyes.
And stood silently…
For a few long seconds…
Alone again.
The engine heart was dim now. A single red emergency light blinked rhythmically like a pulse slow, steady, alive. Smoke still curled from cracks in the walls, but it had calmed. The trembling of the crash was over.
Coain crawled out, his arms aching, his body stiff from the strain and heat. His ears rang from the impact. Everything around him was broken walls dented, panels torn open, wires exposed like nerves after surgery.
And yet… he had survived.
The ship wasn't whole, but it wasn't dead.
He stumbled forward, wiping grime from his eyes. Every surface was scorched or shattered. As he moved, he began to pick up useful parts broken steel beams, intact power cells, cables, even a cracked but functional plasma wrench. His brain worked like a machine now. No panic. Just survival.
He made his way to what was once the brain room, the ship's central control area. Its walls were blackened, and screens blinked on and off, some frozen in static. But the backup generator was still there, humming faintly.
Coain dropped to his knees and pulled open the emergency fuse panel. Sparks flew, but he didn't stop. He rerouted power. Twisted wires. Restarted circuits.
The ship trembled.
Then a light flickered on.
And another.
And another.
The brain of the ship came back to life barely. The walls glowed with dim blue lines. A digital voice echoed around him, soft, damaged, but still functioning.
"…System reboot… Engineer Coain confirmed. Power at 13%. Damage report critical. External breach: 92%. Flight status: Offline."
Coain smiled faintly. "I know," he muttered. "You did your best."
The ship answered with a soft whirring sound. It felt like it sighed back at him.
Just then, a new noise interrupted the silence.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
A transmission alert. A flickering screen at the center lit up. A live feed.
And there on the screen was Wart, the head of Earth's military council.
His face was tired. Bloody. Shaking with static.
"Hello? Hello?! This is Wart of the Earth Alliance Council. Is anyone out there? Any survivor, do you read me?!"
Coain froze. He watched him speak just stared.
He didn't answer.
He didn't move.
After a few seconds, Coain reached forward… and switched the screen off.
Silence returned.
He turned away, walked to the side control panel, and began trying to activate something else the cloaking system. If he could get it working, the wreckage might go unseen for a while. But the crash had scattered half its components.
"Cloaking Module Offline," the ship said.
He sighed. He would have to find it manually. Without it, the wreck was a target. Taiquim's soldiers might already be looking.
Coain grabbed a portable scanning screen from a broken storage locker. He tapped into the ship's last known diagnostic record.
There on the map a blinking blue dot.
Cloaking Module: 1.9 miles southeast.
Outside.
He grabbed a plasma torch, slung a supply belt over his shoulder, and checked the air pressure gauge by the exit.
Safe.
He pushed open the external hatch. The steel door groaned as it slid aside.
The world outside greeted him with silence.
Gray.
The surface of Taiquim's planet was a vast wasteland of dark rock, ash colored sand, and ridged, unnatural hills. Jagged stone spikes pierced the air like the remains of old giants. The sky was no longer burning red it was turning deep purple now. Night was coming.
Coain took a breath and stepped outside. His boots sank slightly into the dry, dusty ground. Behind him, the wrecked ship glowed faintly from inside like a fallen ghost.
He held the scanner out in front of him. A thin green arrow pulsed southeast. The cloak module wasn't far. But time was short.
He switched off the ship's generator just in case. Less noise. Less light. Less chance of being seen.
Then he began to walk, alone, toward the blinking dot.
Toward the dark.
Coain's boots sank slightly into the dry, cracked surface of Taiquim's gray planet. The scanner in his hand pulsed with a blinking green light, guiding him toward the lost Cloaking Module. The air was silent, the sky dim with a fading purple haze as alien night crept over the terrain. Strange rock towers loomed like sleeping beasts, and the planet's air carried the faint smell of heated metal and distant smoke.
He moved fast, but careful. The cloak module was vital without it, the wrecked ship would shine like a beacon in enemy territory. Taiquim's forces would find it. They'd destroy it. Or worse… use it.
After about a mile, Coain slowed. He crouched behind a jagged ridge. A chill ran through his spine. Voices.
Alien voices.
Peering over the rocks, his heart skipped a beat four of Taiquim's soldiers were already at the spot. They circled something, standing in tight formation with plasma rifles on their backs and helmets that shimmered under the darkening sky.
The Cloaking Module.
It sat half-buried in the dust, dented but intact. The soldiers stood around it, one of them bending down to inspect it. Their language echoed through the rocks deep, sharp syllables that Coain couldn't understand. But the way they gestured, the way they eyed the object, made his stomach turn. He knew they recognized it.
"Groltek'varh… ish telon Earth-mek," one soldier said, tapping the module's casing.
Another replied, "Taiquim'tek. Wreth'on mek'tel use."
They spoke faster, louder. One of them pointed east. Coain couldn't tell what they were deciding, but they didn't seem to be moving away from it.
Then, finally, the largest among them probably the leader stepped forward. He pressed a clawed hand to the module, let it buzz faintly beneath his touch, then grunted.
"No'tek. Broken. Not for us."
And just like that, they turned.
They were leaving it behind.
Coain crouched lower, holding his breath as they marched away. His entire body was tight with tension, his heart pounding in his ears. The soldiers walked right past his hiding place less than twenty feet from him. One of them paused, sniffed the air. Coain froze. Didn't blink. Didn't even breathe.
The soldier shook his head and kept moving.
Only when their footsteps faded into the wind did Coain finally rise from the rocks.
The Cloaking Module sat alone now. Battered, but there. It buzzed faintly, like it knew it had a second chance.
Coain sprinted toward it, dropped to his knees, and brushed the dust away. It was heavier than he expected maybe forty kilos, with sharp ends and damaged wires. He winced as he hoisted it onto his shoulder, adjusting it against his back using a piece of cloth from his supply belt.
"Don't fall apart on me now," he muttered.
The wind howled louder now. Coain didn't know if it was natural or the sound of more ships moving in the sky.
He glanced at the scanner. The signal from the crash site still pulsed weakly. He had to get back. Fast.
He ran.
His feet struck the dirt in silence, keeping close to the ridges, ducking under ledges, weaving through tight rocky paths. Every shadow looked like a soldier. Every gust of wind sounded like a jet.
But he didn't stop.
The module slowed him, scraped his back, burned his arms, but he held on.
Finally, after what felt like an hour but was only minutes, he saw it the soft glow of the wrecked ship, half-buried in a rocky crater.
He climbed down into the crater, stumbling with exhaustion. The entrance ramp was half closed now, bent and groaning, but he squeezed inside. The inside of the ship was silent. Only faint sparks blinked on the walls.
He dropped the module beside the central console, collapsing onto the floor, breathing hard.
For a moment, he let the silence return.