Osiris New Dawn (part 1)
Dec 19, 2019 16:37:34 GMT -5
Post by OutsidR on Dec 19, 2019 16:37:34 GMT -5
A fan-fiction of Osiris: New Dawn:
Author:
ThatGuyFuryan
(Copy right.... 2019)
ThatGuyFuryan
(Copy right.... 2019)
Chapter 1
Proteus 2
Day 1
Today was a downer, I'm not going to lie. Osiris 1 base was my saving grace, that's what I was telling myself as I dragged myself across the sand. Seeing it like it was -a wreck- yeah that was rough. By helmet light I managed to use one of the airlocks as a shelter, wrapped myself in some MLI (multi-layer insulation) I salvaged earlier as bedding and get some sleep. Being sheltered and wrapped up saved a bit of power, heater not having to work as hard during the cold night.
Worse bed ever in the universe! Best sleep ever!
At the crack of dawn I got down to work.
Osiris 1 base is a wreck. No joke. I think I wasted 30 minutes of daylight standing there with my jaw dropped at how trashed this place is after my initial sweep. This place looks even worse in the daytime.
By all appearances, it was a fully realized base: the central habitat was up and running, handling all the busy work. There was a medical bay that's seen far better days. Crew quarters, I've got an eye on one of those beds for tomorrow. There was even a bio-dome and a production bay. Everything for sustaining six people to go about their business. What troubles me is that I haven't found anyone... not even a body. Whatever happened to them either didn't happen here, or worse it did and... well, let's not think about that.
I have an idea on what I'm going to do.
Exploratory habitats are built cheap, the core habitat is essentially all you need and carries the basics to produce the other structures in-situ. I've gone over the habitat as best I can and have assessed the damage. The machinery and appliances are covered in sand, I'll have to check those once I address the bigger issues. Three wall sections are gone, there's signs of an explosion from inside the habitat that punctured one of the walls, the other two I just can't find. Sand has eroded many of the airlock seals, but I think I there's enough left in OK shape to be able to work with. There's minimal power from a single auxiliary battery (enough to maybe perform a structural check) and the environmental systems are shot. Maybe from the explosion, or some kind of feedback? In saying that the core skeleton looks fine, the other walls are in good order and everything else looks workable, assuming I can seal those big-gaping-holes.
I spent most of the day dismantling and cataloging wall sections from the other buildings. The wall sections of the auxiliary structures are all different shapes and sizes, this is going to require a bit of work for me to break them down to something usable. Design wise, while each building is functionally different, many of the key components are universal; no square pegs through round holes here.
The easiest part of my day was replacing the airlock seals. I just had to pull them from other buildings and done! Quick out, quick in. The more challenging part is going to be cobbling together permanent replacements for the walls. That's going to require tools I just don't have right now. This isn't helped that I'm doing this by hand and that means I'm burning oxygen. Which I'm still OK on. As OK as it can be when you know you've got your primary tank and two partials you've managed to pull together. That's still two days worth. I can do a lot in two days.
It's getting dark out and I need to get something sorted for the night. The days here are too short. Now I understand what Mom used to tell me all the time; "There's never enough hours in a day!". I miss Mom. Love you, Mom.
The cheap and nasty solution is the MLI. Cheap and nasty; sounds like a typical Friday night. Well, it's Monday. I think. Or is it Wednesday?
MLI is multiple layers of woven fabrics and aluminum and these things are durable by themselves: can stop a bullet, maybe not a knife but I don't plan on being mugged any time soon. Here's the nasty part of my plan: I'm going to use these as temporary walls. While they're the same material as what our inflatables use (Gods, I wish there was one of those around here, there isn't... I checked... twice!) it is frowned upon by U.N.E. engineers to do what I'm doing. I've rigged up wall framing and bolted salvaged MLI in layers into the frame, applying duct-tape to seal each layer together. I've attached the frame into the habitat, triple checked I screwed everything in right and applied liberal amounts of duct tape to the interior and exterior wall joints. Proteus 2 has a temperature range comparable to Mars, so I know the tape will be able to hold a seal. That said, like Mars the sand is going to wear it done in a few days. But enough of that, I get to say "Bingo! Tent walls!".
I squeezed enough power out of the Habs auxiliary supply (before it died) to do a check. The system had to use atmosphere to do it but it checked out! I can't take my suit off (again) but it worked! I've been upgraded! Going from sleeping on the floor of an airlock to sleeping on the floor of a habitat! Now remember children, that's what happens when you tip the guy at the desk.
**********000**********
Chapter 2
[continued]
Proteus 2 - Day 2
I'm thinking about cleaning up. It's harder than it sounds. The Hab doesn't have a broom. Who doesn't bring a broom?
This place is full of dust and sand. Normally, this isn't too much of an issue. Habs are armed with over-the-top cleaning power: several pumps and vacuums to remove such a mess, being designed to handle a multitude of breaches. The issue I'm facing is power. To 'clean' this place out I'll need to run pumps and vacuums for about 30 minutes, which requires around over 1500 watts of power. I don't have that kind of power.
Speaking of which. My HUD had that pesky Low Battery notification blinking in my face a while ago. I have to admit I was rather calm--in the face of only having 30 minutes of power remaining. 30 minutes till death. My only option was to check the Auxiliary Power unit. I had run the Hab check only a few hours ago and the power died, thankfully for me that turned out to be just the Environmental Systems crapping the bed. That sounded really weird to say.
Either way, armed with my nifty MLI cape, I pulled the two Battery Packs from their unit. They were both the standard colony battery, 8Kwh units each weighing a hefty 22kg (around 50 pounds), about the size of carry on luggage. First one I yanked looked in pretty good condition. The second was--well, it was terrible. Some kind of rupture of the casing, a good number of the cells had warped and leaked on the rest. I'm not going to be able to do anything of that one--for now.
The good pack I took over to a nearby desk, swept all the sand off it. When everything settled, pistol grip in hand, I removed the outer casing and accessed its on board computer. Each pack has an independent computing unit to maintain itself, lucky for me it's on board battery (that's funnier than it should be) still had a charge. It booted up quickly after I attached a convenient mini-USB cable into my PDA. I eyed up the cell array as best I could as it started spitting out data. These kinds of battery have 64 cells, each about the size of a decent mobile phone butterflied in an array off a central spine, which houses the on board computer, safety cut offs and all the fancy stuff. Each cell has 125Wh (watt hour) capacity. It doesn't sound like much, my suit has a 2kg (4.5 pound) battery with a 800Wh capacity. In emergency mode my suit runs at 62Wh so even 125Wh would keep me going for another two hours.
Got to admit, when the pack started giving me a bunch of 0s I was seriously disheartened. That's putting it mildly: I swore like a drunken sailor. Thankfully for me (and any future swear jars) cells 34 through 41 reported a combined 400Wh charge. Would have loved 4000Wh but never look a gift horse in the mouth.
I pulled my suits auxiliary power cord from the bottom of my pack (which is a lot harder to do when you're still wearing it, this suit doesn't allow much flexibility). The battery pack--like all mission standard devices--has several ports to handle most of the common mission connectors (again, no square pegs here) so I was able to draw power directly into my suit battery. I had to stand around for 20 minutes while I transferred 250Wh, leaving 150 in the battery for later. I've got four hours of power now with two in reserve.
With dawn breaking I needed to get to work.
**********000**********
Chapter 3
[continued]
Osiris 1 is centralized around the Hab with the auxiliary structures (Medical Bay, Production Bay, Biodome and Barracks) connected by corridors. Standard colony layout. In the back left of the base, a Laboratory was in the middle of construction. It's framing standing like a carcass now. What I was expecting was some solar panels or a few wind turbines, but there aren't any. That meant power was being routed from elsewhere and enough for them to feel confident to use it as their primary power source. Risky.
I ran around the back of the Hab to where the Auxiliary Power wall unit would be. Sure enough a heavily armored cable was plugged into the primary exterior port. And a piece lay across the sand. Another large piece embedded into the bases three Environmental Extractors further out the back.
Saying I felt a sense of distress is an understatement. Like a skittish Meerkat I scanned my surroundings. That cable is tough, heavy and thick, having several metal layers and a strong steel outer coat to protect from damage. For something to literally tear it apart like that--it would have to be big. I saw nothing but sand, rocks and the base. The winds would have swept away any signs of what would have done that, and I couldn't see anything that looked like a kind of big bad. I knew Proteus 2 had alien life, which was becoming more common as Man explored outside of our Solar system but that was usually bacteria or other extremophiles. Nothing that could tear reinforced cable.
A reflection caught my eye. To the back of the base near the Lab construction there was a large mound of sand covering something. Far more cautiously than I care to admit, I made my way over. Even before I got to it, I knew what it was. A buried Rover. Like a fevered treasure hunter I dug away the sand by hand. Took about ten minutes to clear away the majority of it, the wind mocking me and kicking up sand as I worked. The Rover was in bad shape. The cockpit had been collapsed by a large steel strut, which I'm guessing was from the Lab. The rest of the Rover was partially submerged. Looked like it had the misfortune of finding a sink hole of some kind. Paranoid, I checked for xenomorphs--like an idiot from a b-grade movie--I leaned into a gap between the Rover and the edge of the hole.
It was just a hole. No alien bug tunnels.
Both front and rear axles had broken, the front buckling under the weight of that strut. Unsurprising, the electric motor (which was housed under the cockpit) was totaled, split in two by a jagged rock. The rear axle had twisted. There was no way I could repair any of that. The Rovers batteries (two slimmer profile 8Kwh packs) I found in good order behind the cockpit in their compartment: one sporting a nasty dent in the casing but clear of damage that would hinder it.
I spent about 20 minutes combing over the Rover, checking everything from the cargo hold to stupidly reaching into the cockpit to check it's glove compartment. A good haul of salvage I must admit. It looks like it had just been on a resource run. In the cargo hold there was several crates of ores, by the looks of it some kind of iron ore. I found a Core Drill with a partially charged battery, pick-axe and a few chisels. Maybe they'd been out gathering samples? In the back of the hold there was a few crates of random goodies: Hab canvas, duct tape, several ration packs, toolkit. Tucked away under the Hab canvas was the jewel of it all: a working portable solar panel and a 20 meter power cable for it. Best Christmas present ever!
The standard portable solar panel folds out to around 1 square meter, which I immediately set up after I reattached the working Hab battery back into its power unit. I plugged the solar panel into it one of the exterior ports. The cells are top quality for silicon based ones, an impressive 20.9% efficiency--according to the label. On Earth the maximum solar radiance is over 2000w/m2 depending on where on the world you are. Here it's a little less than what I'd expect if I was on Mars. After I set up the panel, angling it into direct sunlight, I went back into the Hab and checked the input--held my breath for a good bit until the battery started collecting charge: a stellar estimate of 98 watts per hour. Better than a kick in the teeth. I have to go out and angle it into the sunlight every hour or so but that's power I didn't have this morning.
The sun rose half way towards noon before I gave up on looting the Rover wreck and anything else I could from the other buildings. Not much had survived that was exposed to the weather. Most of my fortune came from the Rover. Like a glorious hoarder, I piled everything into the Hab, including the wall sections from the night before. On top of it all I managed to retrieve one of the the Rovers three oxygen tanks, it took a bit of work but was worth it. It was still full! That gives my suit well over a day's worth of oxygen. I checked the Rover batteries and they were in far better shape than the Hab battery, a combined 5000Wh! So, I've got three good condition power packs, 5250Wh worth of power, a solar panel gaining me more, some food (assuming I can get it into my mouth) and a handful of tools and other goodies.
I'd be more excited, but I think my stomach was beginning to eat itself.
**********000**********
Chapter 4
[continued]
Bringing everything into the Hab wasn't my smartest of ideas. Sealing the walls before clearing as much debris as I could ranks at the top of my stupid ideas list. I’m still surrounded in sand: I’m inside the Hab surrounded by sand. Actually, its worse now: I’m inside the Hab surrounded by sand and all the things from the Rover. To be fair, with the Hab now sealed it's the best place for everything, protection from the elements.
I still hadn't come up with any ideas of how to eat. The suit is capable of giving an astronaut food and water: as part of our rations we have bars which we can nibble on from inside our suit, but that relies on the user loading food and water in appropriate slots before going on an EVA. I didn't do that. I loaded water. My fault really. I should have known I would be stranded on a moon 20 light years from Earth. My 1.2 litre water bottle was still about half full, I've been sparingly sipping on that since the crash. My waste bag is probably about equally as full.
With power not being such a pressing issue I called it quits with the solar panel for the day and brought it inside. It was about noon at the time. I needed its power cord. I popped back outside again to pull out the storage crates from the Rover, emptying the ores onto the ground nearby. Because I didn't want to do anything stupid with it, I left the pick axe outside learning against the ore pile. I wasn't worried about the neighbors stealing it.
Rovers have room enough for eight 20 liter storage crates or four longer 40 liter crates. Even the larger crate is easy enough for one person to carry by themselves. This one only had the 20s. It took a few trips, but I brought them inside and stacked them in the center of the Hab, placing one of the Rover batteries on top. I needed to be able to work as I recharged my battery, so I used the solar panels cord as an umbilical between my suit and the battery. That lets me freely move around the interior of the hub (as it's open plan) and into the airlock should I need to.
Like all U.N.E. Habitats, this one is a do-decagon (12 sided). Three of the wall sections being my lovely tent walls. One dedicated to the main airlock. Two more were taken up by auxiliary airlocks: one that led into a corridor to what was the Biodome. The other to a junction corridor that led to the Medical Bay, Barracks and Production Bay. The remaining walls were dedicated to two windows--one overlooking the airlock, the other looking out towards a crater filled with strange looking trees-- as well as the damaged Environmental Control system, Auxiliary Power Unit, a desk and finally a Water Re-claimer.
So pre-occupied with other things I totally missed the Water Re-claimer! You know, cos I'm an idiot.
In my defense, though, the sand had been piled up to over knee height against that side of the Hab and everything looked like an orange smug. The breaches were on the opposite side of the Hab. That could mean the wind commonly comes across the base from that direction. Later on that might be useful.
Using a scrap piece of metal as a shovel, I dug the sand away from in front of the re claimer. The motors at its base looked damaged, sand erosion most likely. The 120 liter tank stood firm: no dents or breaches that I could see or feel. All the delicate machinery to reclaim water was still in its housing flanking the tank--which looked intact--but I dare not open that. Any dust or sand getting inside could seriously damage it. That and I would have no idea what I was looking at. It looked sealed, I just had to take that at face value. The water level gauge showed full but I'd been far too lucky today, for that to be the case. I placed my visor against the tank and tapped it with my piece of metal. I could hear the difference as I tapped lower. There was something in there. Maybe about a quarter full. Bumping the tank didn't produce a sloshing sound so I guessed it was frozen. Assuming everything was intact that was about 30 liters of water at best guess.
I felt positively cathartic. Things were coming together. I decided I needed to do as much as I could by hand to clean the Hab, hopefully give me some time to sort out a plan. Continuing to use my new friend--my trusty piece of what appears to be Hab wall--as a shovel. Could use a storage crate as a bucket; you know, 15-ish liters of sand each trip. Being the size of a small house, it would only take me longer than I have oxygen to finish.
Sounds like fun.
**********000**********
Chapter 5
[continued]
OK, screw that. I tried using the crate method. Yeah, no.
Compounding my thinking: I was outside and noticed that one of my tent walls had a bit more slack in it than the others. I know it's a waste of resources, but I might as well take that one off and redo it. That will also give me a larger opening that I can just shove sand straight out of. Saves breaking my back doing it this way.
EVEN after removing the offending wall panel, clearing of the Hab was just as exciting as Guy thought it would be. He was already hungry and tired, while he knew the task wouldn't help that, he hoped it might provide simplicity to help regain focus; following an A-to-B-to-C thought process. So far it had only served to hurt his lower back. He was able to use the crate as a larger shovel, awkwardly bending over to push or pull loads of sands to the opening in the side of the Hab and just dumping it out.
During the clean up, he discovered some goodies buried in the sand: containers, glass jars, lids. Common habitat goods. Some had broken, some were still in good nick. He set aside the worthwhile ones for later use and dumped the rest.
His thoughts danced around different ideas and approaches, but nothing seemed to stick. U.N.E astronauts are extensively trained for their mission. Their PDAs also carry an extensive knowledge base of protocols and blueprints: everything they need to survive on foreign worlds. That is, when you have a good source of supplies. While his PDA has emergency instructions and blueprints, it was still based off of--at least--having a working escape craft to salvage. He's crashed, and crashed hard. He knew he'd have to make the trek back to the crash site to salvage what he could, maybe even go over the rover again more thoroughly, as well as the base. He had been in a rush earlier, doubling back would cost him in resources. Resources he couldn’t afford to waste.
Even if he was able to find suitable parts, he would still require a pressurized shelter. None of his training felt useful in the moment. It seemed like an almost impossible task. Every idea required something he didn't have or assumed a favorable outcome when he got to salvaging. Trying to not fall into despair, his mind did little to quieten the reality of the situation: he's a scientist with some engineering experience, he was--most certainly--not a survivalist by any stretch. He knew his limits and he knew he was reaching them.
The sun began its descent behind distant mountains. Long shadows stretched across the base while Guy continued to work. As the day reached its civil twilight he had retreaded his MLI wall. Now using tools he had found prior, he was more confident with this piece of his impromptu construction. He was just finishing up resealing the exterior with duct tape. There was still some light, the daylight sensor on his helmet hadn't yet triggered the light to come on. Beads of sweat hung on his brow. It had been a long day.
He stepped back from the Hab, eyeing up his work. He gave it a satisfactory grunt and a nod before returning to the airlock. As he made his way up the ramp, both the exterior and interior doors lay open before him. The Auxiliary Power unit was in the distance. Stopping before reaching the first door, he eyed the power unit from afar. His gaze rose, then circled the interior of the airlock. Still on the ramp, he lends to one side as far as the railing would allow him before he stepped back off it. He assessed the condition of the airlocks exterior, one side then the other. It looked good, the rigid outer shell showed no signs of damage or degradation from weathering.
An idea was forming in his head.
He turned toward where the Rover was resting. He pondered for a moment. The airlock could be his lifeboat. It was a small size, designed to be pressurized and depressurized. If intact, he could get power into it--either by fixing the power unit in the Hab and routing power that way, or rigging something up using parts from the Rover and power unit and powering it internally--and assuming the pressurization system still worked (as it's specific to the airlock itself, not the Hab). He'd be able to pressurize it. He had the Rover oxygen tank, which was misleading title: it was an atmospheric tank, a mix of oxygen and nitrogen.
A small pressurized, oxygenated environment. He could take his suit off for a bit. Not for too long as there would be nothing there to scrub carbon dioxide build up, but enough time for him to eat, drink and check over his suit before having to put it back on. He could ration out the time into 20 to 30 minute intervals until he had something more permanent.
Happy with this idea he made his way over to the Rover, a spring in his step. He knew the battery compartment was still intact, so it was probable that he could pull parts from it. He might be able to get something from it's environmental systems, assuming the strut hadn't crashed them as it did the cockpit. And, he still hadn’t checked the auxiliary buildings for components he might be able to salvage. He was so pre-occupied with 'what ifs' he didn't notice something jutting out of the ground. He tripped on it, stumbled a few steps. He attempted to right himself, to regain some sense of balance. He failed miserably. With the grace of a shack of bricks, the weight of his suit brought him forward, off balance. He tried to use his hands to break his fall, but he collapsed into a heap.
Laughing to himself, he began to rise. "Nailed it. Graceful, like a Gazelle!". Dusting himself off, he rose to a knee as he looked back, curious to what he tripped on. His laughter immediately stopped. His mouth dropping slightly. He saw what he tripped on: the tip of a U.N.E. suit pack.
"Oh, no.".
Now sporting a slight limp, Guy rushed towards it, stopping a few feet away. He looked down, taking everything in. Many thoughts crossed his mind as he carefully circled around behind it--now facing away from the Hab--he lined up with the direction of the U.N.E. logo. Had he been stepping on it all day? What if someone was inside? Dropping to his knees, he feverishly dug away sand. It definitely was a suit--face down, sprawled into the sand. He hoped that it had been just a spare, maybe thrown from the Hab in the accident that damaged the base. His hands bumped the side. It offered weight, someone was in it. He paused, swallowing hard, trying to keep the content of his stomach down.
This was his first dead body--ever.
Steadying himself he checked what was now exposed. Everything looked intact, on the back at least. No visible suit breaches. The suit pack sporting only a few scratches. Guy braced the pack with both hands and pushed forward, rolling the body towards its side. Sand moved as the dead weight shifted. The helmet become exposed, tilting as he pushed. Fragments of the visor fell into the sand. Guy looked. A set of white eyes met his from behind a fragment of metal that was embedded into a now blackened face. Skin and flesh had withered away around the metal, exposing shattered bone and frozen brain matter. Mouth opened as if screaming, the tongue had been sliced in two
Guy screamed, releasing his hands and fell back. The body slumped, the broken helmet twisting as the metal fragment caught on the ground, tilting the head inside. The eyes stared at him. He looked away, his breathing rapid. His arm PDA sprang to life at his heart rate and respiratory increase. It displayed a warning, indicating he was in stress.
He knew he needed to calm down. With deliberate deep breathing, he looked back, the face still staring back at him. He winched. "I'm so sorry.".
He now knew what had happened to at least one of the Osiris 1 crew.
As his vitals started to return to the edge of normal, he returned to investigating, carefully finishing turning the body over. Gently, respectfully, turning the helmet away from him. The front of the suit had taken more of a beating. Several pieces of metal were lodged into the chest piece, puncturing it, tearing away at the protection and would have exposed the wearer to the environment. Even if the shrapnel had not been the killer, rapid exposure to that degree would have been fatal.
He looked for the name on the suit. "Martin".
Theodore Martin. Mission Geologist.
Guy looked for Martins PDA, which was still attached to the slot on his right arm. The screen covered with frozen blooded sand, but to all appearances it looked intact, as had appeared the case with the backpack as well. He needed those, and the PDA might offer some clues. His stomach twisted as he reached for it, the act of robbing a dead man a dead man deeply unsettling. He paused, looked towards where the man’s face would been: "I'm really sorry, but... this might help understand what happened to you, and I need some help here.".
The ground beside beside Martin's helmet suddenly exploded, pelting Guy with sand, rock and dirt. He saw for an instant a yellow and brown flash, then something weighty collided with his helmet, sending him screaming into his back. Monstrous screeching, the scratching of teeth and claw his visor rung in his ears. Guy reached up instinctively and held something that had latched on to his helmet, using his chest piece of leverage. With strength he didn't know he had, he resisted whatever it was, his hands wrapped around something bony. Looking, all he could see was as set of teeth gnashing at his visor. Screaming and using all he had, Guy twisted himself, using his body weight to throw the thing off as he fell hard into the sand.
Some kind of multi-limb monstrosity landed into a heap a meter or two away, kicking up sand as it slid, wrestling itself to its feet. Guy get a good glimpse of it as he rolled himself over. A twisted Hexapod--four muscular, but thin legs paired with two smaller ones connecting just below its abdomen--stood no more than two feet in height, settled into a predatory stance. It lowered, as if ready to pounce. The body, especially the chest was slender, covered in dry leathery skin. While the legs looked almost spider-like, the torso and abdomen appeared sickeningly humanoid, clear defined muscular structure. The face was round and featureless bar a widening mouth, exposing an array full of sharp teeth. Shrieking and hissing, it raised a tail, sleek with a pointed tip, into the air, it curled above, swaying.
Panicked, Guy hurried himself away from it, sliding on his backside, clawing at the sand with his hands as he kicked back with his feet. He thudded into the pile of ore.
The thing began to sway. It jumped right then vaulted left towards him.
"Get away!"
He boomed fearfully, hurling a chunk of ore towards it. It missed, but was close enough. The thing released a screeched as it evaded, leaping towards the right, doubling back for a moment then towards Guy again. The ore skipped across the sand before striking the foundation of the Lab in the distance. A loud metallic thud echoed through the growing darkness. The creature stopped in its tracks only a few feet away, its head snapping towards the location of the sound, then back to Guy. He couldn’t see any eyes as he fumbled up the ore pile, driving himself back to his feet as he grabbed another chuck of ore in each hand, hurling one towards it. This one struck the sand in front of it. It recoiled back on to its rear legs to evade, then threw itself into the air. It closed the distance fast, but met the other chuck of ore--firmly in Guy's hand--as he swing it like a hammer. The thing caught the full force, it went limp on contact but released a feral hiss as it was sent flailing through the air over Martin's body and into the sand.
Not losing sight of it, Guy reached back, his hands searching pile for the pick-axe. The thing pulled itself up on to Martins chest piece, hissing, some blue liquid spitting from its mouth. Blood, maybe? Guy reached the handle of the pickax, wrapped his fingers around it. The daylight sensor on his suit finally registered its low light requirement, flickering to life. The light slicing through a haze of sand and fine dust. Bathed in light the creature shrunk away from it, as if it was causing it discomfort or pain. It shook itself wildly, as if trying to throw the light off. Unable to repel it, the creature screeched and hissed with increasing ferocity. Martin's body lurched as the thing leapt into the air. Guy roared as he dragged the head of the pick-axe across the sand, up and in front of him.
It connected.
Guy could feel the crunching of bone as the width of the pick-axe struck it square in the chest. He lost grip of the handle, both pick-axe and creature flew through the air away from him. The creature slid off the head before both connected the ground, some distance from each other. Guy tracked it with his light. He was clearly injured, struggling to its feet, legs shaky. He hurled another chunk at it. Missed again. Knowing it was now no match for the man, it fled between the Environmental Extractors and away from the Hab.
Without thinking, high on adrenaline, Guy gave chase, picking up the pick-axe as he ran to the imaginary boundary of the base. His suit light on it until it disappeared over a rise at the extent of the beam. Exhausted,he stood there for a moment, made sure it was gone.
In the distance, the final shreds of daylight disappeared. Bar the lights on his suit, it was now pitch black. Guy's thoughts quickly betrayed him. 'What if there are more of those things out there?'. He scanned in a full 360. He couldn't see anything, but then he didn't that small ‘thing’ either. It was in the sand. He hastily scanned the sand around him, swinging the axe wildly, striking around his feet. Nothing.
His heart rate spiked as paranoia set in. His body froze. He wanted to run, but he couldn't. "Run, you idiot." he growled to himself. His legs didn't respond. The wind howled by him. He couldn’t be sure if it was just wind or something else. His heart jumped. "Move!" he bellowed. As if listening his legs responded. He broke into full stride and ran to the Rover. He checked around him, nothing. Grabbing his pistol grip off his belt, he began removing screws and bolts from inside of the battery compartment, just letting them fall to its interior. He exposed the inner workings and yanked anything he could remove by hand. He had no idea what he was grabbing, he just grabbed.
With a load of components cradled in his arms, he ran towards the Hab, scanning his surroundings as he went. He avoided Martins’ body. Up the ramp and into the airlock. Inside the Hab, he dumped everything onto the desk and scanned the interior. He made sure nothing had gotten inside. It looked clear. He proceeded back to the airlock to close exterior door. He stopped. Martins’ lay still in the distance, exposed reflective strips catching helmet light. He knew needed parts. With a few deep breathes, he burst through the door and back outside, almost falling when attempting to skid to a halt. Without the same care he showed before, Guy pulled Martins’ onto his front and released the suit pack, then hastily pushed then twisted the PDA, releasing it from its lock. With everything in hand, he ran back to the airlock and slammed the door, locking it behind him.