Golden light from the celestial orb filtered through the lifepod's glass, casting a soft, almost sacred glow across the metal interior. Lazarus was the first to wake.
She stared at the unfamiliar ceiling—neither the stained plastic ceiling of the orphanage nor the polished panels of a luxurious dormitory. Reality settled in with quiet weight. Yesterday had not been a nightmare. An orphan, barely twelve years old, she was stranded in an alien world.
Was it luck that they hadn't died outright—or a curse that they'd survived?
Drawing in a few slow breaths, Lazarus knelt in the corner of the lifepod. She clutched the cross at her neck and whispered her morning prayer, the familiar cadence steady and comforting. With each line, the tightness in her chest eased, and the lifepod itself seemed to grow calmer, as if her faith softened the space around them.
The morning light felt gentle. It chased away the bite of the night cold and settled over her bowed head like a halo.
Xiaolang woke next.
Without a word, he leaned toward the window, eyes scanning the forest beyond for movement. While Lazarus sought reassurance in faith, he searched for danger. Between them, the silence of survival stretched long and heavy.
"Xiaolang," Lazarus asked quietly once her prayer ended, "are you hungry?"
Her question was answered by a chorus of groans. None of them had slept well.
Lazarus reached for a ration pack and a bottle of water. Her fingers brushed cold metal, and her stomach tightened at the sight of the container's half-empty interior. In a single night, nearly a third of their supply was gone. After today's meal, only nineteen bottles would remain.
Xiaolang dug through the storage compartment and pulled out a folded solar panel set, its surface still gleaming under the morning light. For a moment, he considered setting it up before they ate—but his stomach cramped, and his lips felt painfully dry. He folded it back and set it aside.
To most people, Mistral wasn't just a machine. It was a presence—a voice that explained, calculated, reassured. Humanity had grown so accustomed to its AIs that losing one felt like losing a part of oneself. Xiaolang used to call Mistral a chatterbox. Now, in its absence, the silence pressed against his chest like lead.
"Everyone, let's eat," Lazarus said, clapping her hands softly before bowing her head in prayer. The group fell silent. None of them were as devout as she was, but if there truly was a god listening somewhere beyond this alien sky, they hoped He could hear them now.
After the meal, Shingo powered on Mistral. The screen flickered weakly. "Mistral, good morning. Please help us install the solar panel. What's our battery status? Any reply from the emergency beacon?"
[Good morning, Shingo.Battery level: critical — five percent remaining.Solar panel: damaged. Deploy spare unit from storage compartment recommended.Emergency beacon: no response.Inbox empty.]
"…" No one spoke. The lifepod seemed to shrink around them, metal walls reflecting their unease. Three days had passed since the crash. With every minute, the hope of rescue thinned—quietly, relentlessly.
"Let's go," Xiaolang broke the silence.
He slung the spare solar panel over his shoulder and started up the stairs, his footsteps echoing inside the hollow shell. As he moved, his fingers brushed the smooth handle of the knife tucked in his pocket—cold, solid, dependable. His expression hardened.
"We'll install the panel first," he said. "Then we find water."
The others nodded without a word.
The hatch opened with a strained groan, metal grinding against metal. A breath of wind slipped inside, cool and gentle against Xiaolang's face. He climbed out of the steel cocoon, and the first touch of morning felt almost sacred.
The sun had risen high, painting the sky a deep, endless blue. Xiaolang paused atop the lifepod, momentarily caught by the view. The alien glow of red, purple, and blue that haunted the night had faded, replaced by a living green that shimmered beneath the light.
Along the shore, a purple amoeba-like creature dragged itself back toward the sea's abyss. High above, pale forms—cloud striders—drifted lazily through the sky, swooping down to peck at the retreating slime.
Life persisted. Fragile. Stubborn.
"Xiaolang," Laurel called from below, her voice cautious. "Is it safe?"
"Yes. There are none of those black lizards," Xiaolang said. He paused, scanning the treeline one last time. "Mistral, how do we install the solar panel?"
[First, assemble the solar panel using the screwdriver. Then connect the cables to the input socket. There are two available input sockets: one near the control panel, and one outside at the base of the exterior ladder.]
"Understood."
Xiaolang climbed down from the lifepod and unlatched the storage case. Inside lay ten solar panels, stacked neatly like sheets of darkness. Each one was painted vantablack. It was so dark it seemed to drink in the alien sunlight rather than reflect it.
Every panel came with its own bracer, a slim support rod, and a coiled twenty-meter cable tipped with a power plug. A handful of bolts and a small screwdriver held the system together. Simple. Efficient. Almost elegant. All he had to do was link the panels, anchor the frame, and route the current back into the lifepod.
Shingo crouched beside him and started sorting the parts, hands moving with quiet familiarity. The others loitered nearby, stretching stiff limbs and basking in the warmth of the morning sun.
Then she knelt beside the boys, eyes sharp as she watched every step.
"Any trouble?" she asked, handing Xiaolang the screwdriver.
"No," he replied, accepting it. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "This is easy. Our Arduino project back home was worse."
He tightened the final bolt and straightened. "We're ready."
The solar panel—more than two square meters wide—lay unfolded on the sand like a massive black wing. Its cables snaked outward, waiting to carry power back into the lifepod and breathe life into the silent machine.
[Spare solar panel detected.Efficiency: 20% due to atmospheric disturbance.Input: 5 kW/hour.Battery charging.Estimated time to full charge: twelve hours.]
"Good," Xiaolang said. "Let's charge our devices before exploring."
Shingo groaned, rubbing his temples. "Scarabs have two raptorial forelegs, Lexus. Not four. Their snouts are shorter too. Whatever those things were, they weren't Scarabs. Not even close."
His sigh carried more than annoyance. He hated how Lexus kept dragging games into it. Nothing about this planet felt like a game.
"We need to find water," Xiaolang said quietly. No argument. Just fact.
"Um…" Anna spoke up, her voice trembling. "Can I… stay in the lifepod?"
The memory wouldn't let go—the cold claw gripping her body on the wet sand, dark snouts writhing toward her beneath the purple forest light. Even standing still, her skin crawled.
"Oi! Didn't you hear him?" Lexus snapped, spinning toward her. "We need to look for water! Are you slacking off, useless girl?"
His voice cut sharp. How could he—the son of the Blackdiamond Group—be expected to work while others hid?
"Lexus, stop it," Laurel said, stepping in. Her tone was firm, but fatigue weighed every word. "Shingo, Anna—can we entrust you with the lifepod and the solar panel?"
She glanced back at the pod, already calculating. Anna would slow them down. And if a signal came while they were gone, someone had to be here to answer.
"Huh?" Lexus gaped. "What do you mean, Laurel? You're just going to let them slack off? That's not fair! I want to slack off too!"
"…I'm sorry." Anna's voice was small. Prompted by guilt, she retracted her words. "Let's go together."
She lowered her head, hands trembling as she forced herself to stand. She didn't want to leave the lifepod. Every instinct screamed at her to stay. But she couldn't be the only one doing nothing. Even if she was useless, she still had to try.
"No. You and Shingo will stay," Laurel said firmly. "Lexus, if you want to stay too, that's fine—but that doesn't mean slacking off. Keep an eye on the emergency beacon. If someone calls, answer immediately. And watch the solar panel. We still have a spare, but I don't want animals or monsters tearing it apart."
"Understood," Shingo said, giving a sharp nod.
"Alright," Anna breathed. Relief washed over her face, her shoulders finally loosening. She hadn't realized how tightly she'd been holding herself together until the weight lifted. At least she wouldn't have to step back into the forest where those creatures lurked. Then, guilt followed.
"Okay. Let's go," Laurel said, adjusting her pack before turning toward the glowing horizon. "Mistral—the sea's a bad option. The water's too salty to drink. Humans lived on Earth, right? Earth had seas too. How did people survive? Were they not salty, or did humans have some way to make them drinkable?"
[On Earth before the RCE events, fresh water was obtained from lakes and rivers. Lakes are large, enclosed bodies of standing water that collect rain, groundwater, or glacial melt. Rivers are flowing channels that carry water from highlands to lowlands, constantly renewed by rainfall and tributaries. Both served as primary sources of freshwater for living organisms on Earth prior to the RCE accident.]
"That doesn't make sense," Shingo muttered. "If living things can only drink freshwater, then how are there fish in the sea?"
Lexus scoffed. "Games aren't real life, Shingo. Fish live in freshwater. My father owned a fish farm. They used fresh water." He snorted, as if the answer should have been obvious.
"There are fish that live in seawater!" Shingo snapped, voice cracking despite himself. "I saw it in the online encyclopedia!"
He winced the moment the words left his mouth. Arguing with Lexus always made him feel stupid. That brat probably never remembered that some of his father's companies—out on Mars's moon—had used seawater in their aquaculture projects.
[There are both freshwater and saltwater fish. Each is adapted to its own environment. Species such as carp live in freshwater, while others, like tuna, live in saltwater. Some species—such as salmon—can survive in both. All were cultivated by the United Space Federation's Aquaculture Division.]
"Enough, you two," Laurel interrupted. "Let's just find the lakes and rivers first."
She turned toward the forest, her expression composed but heavy. The others followed her gaze—toward the endless green shimmering beneath the alien sun.
"I'm going," Lexus declared, planting his hands on his hips. "Unlike this useless girl, I'm the son of the CEO of Blackdiamond Group."
Laurel exhaled slowly. This group is a disaster, she thought—a cluster of children pretending to be a crew. She spared a glance at Shingo and Anna, then turned away, falling in step behind Xiaolang and Bob as they headed for the trees.
"Don't listen to him, alright?" Lazarus said gently to Anna. "You have an important job—watching the beacon and the solar panel. That's just as vital as finding water." She added a small wink. "Besides, it's not like taking Lexus makes us any safer."
Anna let out a soft chuckle and waved as they left.
Xiaolang took point, knife drawn. The blade caught the light as he stepped past the edge of the shade. Every rustle, every whisper of wind through leaves, kept his muscles tight.
The forest at noon was… surprisingly normal.
Tall trees rose like pillars, their leaves breaking the sunlight into scattered patches of gold. For a moment, it almost felt like the park near their school—quiet, familiar. Except there were no paths here. No fences. And no safety waiting at the edge.
Cloud striders lay draped across the branches like folded clothes, their pearly-white fur glazed by the sun.
Lexus smirked and picked up a dead branch. The bark scraped against his palm—rough, solid. Good enough, he thought. He then threw the branch into the birds. They jolted awake, darting off in a flurry.
"Look at them," he sneered, cocking his hands on his hip. "Morning, and they're still asleep. Lazy birds."
"Don't," Lazarus said quietly. "That's cruel."
"Can you believe this?" Lexus snapped. "We're dying of thirst, stumbling around for water, and those things are just napping! I won't be satisfied until I hit something—or find a vending machine!"
Xiaolang stepped between Lexus and the tree, his voice low and even. "We don't know how they'll react if provoked. Leave them alone." His gaze hardened. "If you really want to act tough, test that scarab that attacked us."
His fingers brushed the knife at his hip—not a threat. A promise.
Lexus huffed. "Fine. Whatever."
The branch Lexus had thrown landed at Xiaolang's feet. He picked it up, testing its weight, then glanced around the forest floor. "Give me a few more," he said. "I'll whittle them into spears. It'll improve our chances." His eyes flicked over the group. "If something attacks, don't hesitate. Move in and kill. Stab with everything you've got."
"Good idea," Laurel said, nodding. There was a faint lift to her voice—a spark of reassurance Xiaolang hadn't meant to give, but did anyway. Next time, she thought, I won't just freeze when danger comes. She bent down and grabbed another fallen branch, its bark rest firmly beneath her fingers.
Lazarus handed one over as well. Her hand trembled as she remembered his words. She had never killed anything before. Harming innocent creatures was forbidden—something she had believed in her entire life. But the memory of black snouts and clicking claws rose unbidden, sharp and suffocating. Her grip tightened around the wood.
It's self-defense, she told herself. Just self-defense.
With crude weapons in hand, they felt—briefly—ready to face whatever might emerge from the forest.
Help others, and you shall be helped. Be kind, and kindness will return. Not everything in this world will go your way—but if you've done all you can, you'll have no regrets. ~Bob