Not Alone - part 2 of 4
In the depths of an uncharted galaxy, a mother and daughter crash-land on a desolate alien planet. Now they must survive…
If you haven’t read part one yet, jump back here.
Part 2
It wasn’t yet night when I stepped outside. Above, a deepening orange at the horizon tinged the yellow sky. Twilight was upon us.
Emitting a sigh, I looked around. Except for a foul smelling breeze, the crumbling structures around me stood still. I sniffed again. A hint of burned rubber and roast meat hung in the air.
“Odd,” I said to myself. Following my nose, I started walking. If I was really lucky, another survey group might be camped close by.
Picking up my pace, I circled an enormous structure that reminded me of an arena. The scent seemed to be coming from the other side. The wind-etched walls of the building reached up five or so storeys and seemed to be made of concrete. Three huge doors punctuated the side, all closed—otherwise the walls were blank.
When I reached the other side, my heart sank. I’d found the source of the smell—the wreckage of our shuttle.
Like a burned-out shell, it lay on the ground. And no rescue party was camped out cooking hot dogs. The mission logo glinted silver in the dying sunlight.
A nose-to-tail gash ripped open the fuselage. It was a wonder Em and I escaped unharmed. But what had gone wrong? We’d been flying in the upper atmosphere within mission parameters. In a blink, everything changed. Flashing red lights lit up my console as every alarm went off at once.
We lost altitude fast as the shuttle dropped out of the sky. It took every ounce of strength I had to keep us from going into the ground nose first, like a lawn dart.
I paused, hesitant to take another step. I needed to get whatever supplies I could find and leave, yet I ought to uncover why we had crashed. My heart raced as I stepped closer, my mind flipping between the supplies that I needed and my lingering doubts. Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself to focus on what mattered most—the supplies. As much as I hated to admit it, Em and I might be here a while.
Circling wide around the wreckage, I approached the nose. Something in grey lay on the ground in front of the shuttle. I shuddered as I trudged closer. My heart pounded so fiercely that I heard it drumming against my ribcage. Five meters away, I froze, my body shuddering as I brought my trembling hand to cover my mouth.
A mirror of me lay sprawled on the ground like a discarded doll, my spacesuit torn apart and its faceplate shattered. My face had gone waxy and my eyes were wide open. A dark drip of blood trailed down the corner of my mouth into a now frozen pool.
I swallowed. How could this be? Em and I had made it out okay. We’d even set up our shelter. I stared down at my hands. Other than being paler than usual, I looked like me. A breeze brushed against my cheek and pulled at my loose hair. I brushed a lock of my hair behind an ear.
Wait... I swallowed again. I shouldn’t be able to touch my face. Then it dawned on me—I wasn’t wearing a spacesuit. I stood out in the open on a world without breathable air. How was that possible? Yet the corpse version of me at my feet wore my spacesuit—and she—no, I—was dead.
I stared at my other self. Noticing every detail on my face. The crescent of a scar on my chin earned when I’d fallen off a ladder at an age younger than Em was right where it should be. And the lock of dark hair that curled out of the helmet matched the one I’d just brushed behind my ear.
Crouching, I studied the cable coming from the back of my helmet—the interface cable connecting the port at the back of my helmet to the shuttle. The end of the cable had been severed, but another cable had been spliced in.
What did this mean?
Accessing data buffer, stand by.
“What the hell?” I stood and spun around. An unknown, monotone voice had just spoken directly in my head. “Who’s there?” I shouted as loud as I could. A gust of wind created dust eddies as I waited for a response.
Memory core 13-GN is damaged, re-routing to compensate.
My eyebrows pulled together as I tried to process what was going on. My corpse sat at my feet, yet I had helped Em set up the shelter. And now it sounded like a computer hijacked my mind.
“Am I dead?”
Processing... Alien consciousness has been salvaged... damage suspected... Running memory reclamation now.
The world glitched and I was back in the cockpit. The ground was coming up fast, a crash unavoidable. The lights on the dashboard flashed red, warning that we would smash into the planet surface below. The computer ran through its planned flight path, showing the route to the projected crash site. It predicted everyone on board would die—unless I took drastic action fast.
“Em, are you buckled in?” I didn’t dare take my eyes away from the best possible flight path.
“Yes, mom,” her small voice came over the helmet comms.
“Did you check your suit integrity?” I tightened my grip on the shuttle controls. I could see no good place to attempt landing.
“Yes, mom.”
“Good girl.” I sent out a distress call, but I knew the other shuttle was on its own mission to this planet’s moon. It would be at least six hours before they could come for us.
The ground loomed closer and closer. Alien ruins extended out as far as I could see; their long gone civilization once created sprawling metropolises. I swallowed. Where was a farm field when you needed one?
“We’re going to land hard. Once we stop moving, I want you to grab the emergency shelter and get out of the shuttle.”
“Okay.” Em fell silent for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could fly like birds?”
“Yes, love, it would.” I pulled back hard on the controls while firing our nose thrusters.
We dipped down below the level of a stadium-like building towards a square-shaped open space. The shuttle’s belly hit the ground, releasing a deafening screech. We crossed the square in a flash and slid down what might have been a city street.
The shuttle lurched sideways as a geometric statue rose in our path. I blinked and the metal piece of public art ripped our shuttle open.
The strap dug into my shoulder as the ship pitched and rolled. I winced, wishing I hadn’t brought Em with me on this survey mission today.
A loud snap pulled at my awareness, and time seemed to slow down. My body flew forward, my restraining harness now broken. I went through the front windshield helmet first. It shattered and ejected me out of the shuttle. Shock tore through me as I spun through the air, fear gripping my heart at what would happen next.
Everything went black.
Memory reclamation complete.
“What the hell?” My heart thumped as I spun around. A hundred metres behind the shuttle, the public art piece still stood, way tougher than my shuttle had been. The sculpture glinted in the sunlight as though nothing had happened to it.
I put my hands over my eyes and sunk to the ground. If I was dead, then why was I still here? If I was dead, how would Em survive? She’d be alone on an alien world. I swallowed... how can I swallow?
“Get a grip,” I said to myself. “It doesn’t matter how you are here—what matters is keeping Em safe until rescue.” I stood and assumed my best Wonder Woman pose. I needed to get a handle on the situation.
“Hey voice, who are you?”
Question doesn’t compute.
I cocked my head. “So, you’re a computer in my head?”
Question doesn’t compute.
Right... it was ‘that’ kind of computer. What did it call me earlier? I bit my lip, then it came to me—Alien consciousness. That was me. Well, shit. It wasn’t wrong. Em and I were the aliens here.
“Where am I?”
A holographic map of the city appeared in the air in front of me. Green lines and unfamiliar symbols swirled around like a storm cloud. I pointed to the line drawing that represented the building next to me.
“What is this place?”
Replication facility 37.
“What’s a replication facility?”
A place where physical objects can be fabricated.
I turned and studied the building. It still had its roof. Beyond that, I had no idea what time had done to the place.
“What is the status of Replication facility 37?”
Facility requires maintenance. 89% of printers are off line.
I cocked my head again. The voice in my head suggested that some printers still functioned.
“I require a physical form,” I said.
What type of form?
I bit my lip. Could my form be a ship to take Em to safety? Maybe a maintenance drone? After glancing at the wreckage of the shuttle, I concluded it couldn’t be repaired. An image popped into my head, from where I don’t know. It was a drone of some sort formed like an arachnid. A bulbous body, all shiny and black, with eight spindly legs.
Your form is complete, transferring consciousness now.
“Wait... What?”
The world around me shimmered, then went black—again.
to be continued…