I am alone. My ship crashed here, and it is damaged beyond repair. I cannot get to the Portal, it is situated in space, in orbit of this world. I am stranded.

It has been several days since I arrived here, and I do not know how I will escape this place. My only hope is the small communications device I have with me, but it too is damaged. If I can repair it and send out a signal, someone may come for me. My problem, is that whomever comes here, will not want to take me with them. I am unclean among the wraith, and the Lanteans will kill me on sight. Of course it is possible that some small, independent traveller might happen upon me. Should this occur, whether they want to assist me or not, will not be a concern, they will have no choice.

The cave I am camped in is cold, and I am weak and hungered. I must survive, there is much work to be done. First I must attempt to warm my surroundings, I need wood, leaves. Anything I may use as kindling. I find it unlikely that this effort will be a successful one -this continent appears to be in the middle of a snow season, the trees are bare and wet- nevertheless, I must try. Of course, first, I must stand.

Michael's feeding hand grazed the bare stone walls, as he raised himself up, slowly. He felt something, a shooting pain throughout his entire body. He'd only gotten halfway up when he found himself on the floor again, he's legs had buckled under him. A loud, primal sound assaulted his ears, screaming, someone screaming.

Then he realised; the sound came from his lips. He was in much pain, and too weak to travel yet. His eyelids began to feel heavy, and his head began to throb. He allowed his eyes to close.

For the first time in two days, the weather had calmed just enough to leave the cave for a short time. The wind is wet and heavy against Michael's face, and his boots tread deep into the snow as he drags his feet to the nearest tree line. He began to gather as many wet and broken leaves and branches as he could carry, before turning to face his camp once more. The environment on this continent was brutal during this winter season and he knew that if he did not find a way to keep warm until it passed, he would die here.

He was no longer as strong as he once was. The humanity in him had weakened him. Until he found some way to turn it to his advantage, he simply needed to survive. He began making his way back through the harsh weather, to the cave he had already started calling home. It was going to be a long night.

I had been working on the communications device for several hours already, when the kindling I had gathered was finally dry enough to use to make a fire. My hands felt numb, and ice cold. And getting a stable grip on the two large stones I'd intended to use to create enough friction to assist me in this endeavour, had proven to be more difficult than I had expected. By the time I had finished, my hands were bloodied and raw, another uncomfortable twinge to add to the list of growing discomforts. Nevertheless, my effort had finally been successful. I have survived many battles. I will not allow the elements to take from me what others had failed to. My repairs are coming along better then I expected. Soon, I will be able to send out a signal. I have high hopes for a rescue.

I had been broadcasting a weak signal for almost forty two hours when I heard it. It was little more than a whisper, and I am still not sure of its location.

"Hello… Is anybody out there?"

I female voice. Undoubtedly human. Accompanied by a very strong static sound. The voice was barely audible.

"Who is this?" I ask. She didn't respond. The static stopped a moment later. I believe she is no longer receiving my signal, and since I am still broadcasting, the difficulty is likely with her communication system. I have nothing to do but wait to see if she responds. Hopefully, she will. Because I am beginning to feel quite hungry.

"Hello?"

Her voice. Barely audible through the increasing static, but definitely there.

"Yes, is there someone there?"

"Yes… Who is this?" She asked.

"Yes, my name… My name is Michael." I said. I have little to lose by giving her this information. Michael, an identity given to me by the ones who had created me. Someone whom I had become.

"I'm Jana Lawson" She said. "Where are you? Are you on this planet?"

"Yes. I am. Are you?" I wait for her reply among the static, but none is forthcoming. It seems that whatever was allowing her to broadcast, is intermittent at best. No matter. I am a patient man.

It wasn't belong before I was contacted once again by Jana Lawson. It seems I am not the only one trapped on this world. She has, unfortunately been here for some time, and had not been discovered, by anyone. From what she was able to tell me, I believe that she may be some distance from my position. Approximately a week's walk from my location.

It is unlikely that I would survive the travel in this climate. Therefore, I must wait for more hospitable weather, which is no doubt, weeks away. I will continue to stave off my hunger, until the time comes. If no rescue is forthcoming, I shall at least be able to ensure my survival for a little while longer.

Two weeks later

"… So, you see, I am not a member of 'The A Team' so risking life and limb for a dangerous attempt at rescue, just isn't an acceptable use of resources." Jana had been talking for several hours.

Michael often found her use of vernacular to be somewhat difficult to decipher, and this was no different. Once again, he found himself asking her to explain.

"Oh, The A Team, right. Just a reference to an old TV show. Sorry" He heard her laughter through the quiet static that still remained. Though his attempts to clear up the signal had been moderately successful, the weather, which was still somewhat unpredictable, was once again interfering.

It had been a week since Michael had deduced that this rather talkative female was in fact a resident of Atlantis, or was, as the case may be. Although she had not said anything that would directly identify the Lanteans, certain things she did say led Michael to believe that this was the case. While the facts she had revealed about herself were innocuous enough not to be indicative of her origins, in any way to any other resident of this galaxy, Michael's familiarity with the people of Atlantis had given him a unique perspective on them. It seems she was presumed killed on a mission to this planet, in which her team was ambushed by Wraith. Michael did not know all of the details, but he had heard the Lanteans speak of how they do not leave those of their own behind, on many occasions. This latest discovery had simply proved that he was right about them, all along. He would remember to remind them of this instance, next time he should encounter them.