Black
AN: Chapters vary massively in length, there is some violence, some swearing, some immature behaviour…umm and I do not own etc. anything except the stuff that I do. There is a sequel, starting just as this part finishes, read the warning at the beginning of that, please. Okay, please enjoy and give ego bosting comments (or simply constructive feedback). EF
Chapter 1
"Well, Fuck." That hurt and it's still hurting. The man opened his eyes to observe the shattered glass of his cyro-chamber. With more care than the shards really warranted he reached through the hole and released the door. It fell off.
Boots crunching on the glass he checked his fellow travellers. All dead, except, there, another man fell out of a ruined chamber. Rushing over he helped the older man up, he didn't look good. His face was an unpleasant shade of grey and one bare leg was mangled. Heaving the semiconscious man over to a debris free patch he snatched an emergency first aid pack from its place by the door. As he cleaned the leg he murmured nonsense trying to give the guy some sort of comfort. Bandaging it the younger man noticed the definite tilt of the floor. What exactly had happened? Well obviously they'd crash landed but they couldn't be the only survivors. Surely not.
"T-thank you." The man beside him stuttered.
Distracted from his questions he turned to the older man. "It's the best I can do with what we've got. Rest up a bit I'm gonna scavenge supplies and have a look at where we've landed." Not waiting for a coherent reply he stood and left. The other closed his lids and fell asleep.
Battling through the rubble and half collapsed walkways he found the supply locker. From it he took a pack and put the five unbroken breathers – the atmosphere might be less than optimum, four bottles of water – who knew if they would find clean water, two flash lights – for when night fell, a pair of flares – to signal any patrol ships and the ration packs – never turn down food. Hesitating he wondered if he should take the other pair of flares, turning he left without them, if he needed them he could return.
He scrambled back to his companion who was lying grey and still. Dumping the pack he fumbled to check his vitals, for a moment his heart skipped, but there it was slow and steady, the man was only asleep. Letting out a relived sigh the younger man went to the nearby door.
The panel would not respond and shoving or levering did nought to the door. Nothing would open it. Confused and frustrated the man kicked it. A satisfied smile lit his face, metal toe caps meant he did not regret his temper. It was nice to know he'd learnt from past mistakes, or sore toes. Giving up on that door he went to find another entrance. The emergency lights flickered, he quickened his pace.
Suddenly the lights failed and he was plunged into darkness. Swearing he tripped his way to the supply cupboard and groped for the other unbroken torch he had seen. Finding it after trying a dud, he flicked it on and went to grab the spare batteries when a crack of sunlight caught his eye. Grinning he stumbled up the slope towards it. Shoving the torch through his belt and thumbing it off, he pried the crack open. A good twenty minutes later it was wide enough to easily let the injured man below through. But first, he quickly scrambled through the gap and up onto the hull. Bright sunlight greeted him from all directions, the two suns blazing above were reflected by the endless sands below. Standing on the raised end of the Hunter-Gratzner he could see the great gouge his segment of the ship had created, but, of more interest he could see another distant gouge where the front segments of the ship must lie. That was where they would go then. Jumping down he darted inside and almost brained himself in the sudden blackness. Re-orientating himself he flicked on the torch and hurried to find the other survivor.
The older man was sitting up with a torch on when he returned, he had found the pack. Dropping to the floor in siting-ish position he stuck out his hand.
"I'm Harry Black. How do ya do."
"Maxwell A. Muller. A pleasure."
"But really," Black said, grin fading "how are you doing?"
Max's smile faded as well. "It hurts, but, I think I can walk on it."
"Hum, well it's not as bad as I first thought it might be, nothing's wrong with the bone and it's not really all that deep."
"Well good. And thank you, Mr Black."
"You've already said 'thanks', and there's no 'Mr'."
"'Black' it is then, call me 'Max'."
"Right, well Max here's the situation." And he explained what he had seen. Max agreed with his plan too, going to the other wreckage seemed like the most reasonable thing to do. They would discover if there were any more survivors, safety in numbers and all that. They didn't know what was out there after all.
"Actually," began Black "I doubt there is anything out there, I didn't see even a blade of grass or bramble, just endless burning sand."
Max nodded slowly, face contorted in the torchlight. "Lovely, just our luck, there are plenty of planets out there where the ecosystem has been utterly destroyed. This may just be one of them."
Soon the pair moved out. Trudging across the baking dessert Black learnt that Max was a Marine Biologist, he'd laughed at that commenting that Max was so far out of his element it was comical. In return he'd explained he was a Historian and that yes he was 'awfully young' at Max's disbelief. Which led onto their ages: 28 and 41, and then their families: single with no siblings and divorced with three kids plus two nagging older sisters and so on until they finally reached the wreckage.
Max was totally wiped and stumbling from exhaustion as much as he was from his lame leg. In far better condition Black called out as they neared, voice a little horse from the dry air. Around a corner a dark, heavy set man came, gun ready in his hands. Black barely thought, he dropped to the ground dragging Max down with him. The bullet missed, no more came. Carefully Black looked up, the gun had been lowered. He gently eased himself up stooping to help Max.
"The fuck was that?" He asked curiously, tone pleasant, casually raising his arms in surrender.
The bearded man had the grace to blush. "I'm so sorry about that, come round here. There are nine of us, that makes' the total casualties only 27, Fry will be glad to hear there're more survivors."
"Fry?" Max asked curiously.
"Captain or someaut." They had rounded the corner, Black could only spot two others, a dark haired woman coming quickly towards them and a huge bald man reclining on a vantage point. He wondered where the rest were.
The woman had reached them. "Zeke! Oh, It's just other survivors. Welc- Why are your hands up?" She broke off.
"He has a gun." Black replied easily. "I'm surrendering."
Zeke blushed again. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I heard a noise, which must have been you calling, and assumed you were The Beast." Max and Black blinked at him, Zeke blushed more. "He's a prisoner, escaped convict and murderer. He got loose after the crash."
"Ah." Max summed it up.
Black looked back up to the vantage point, the man toasted him. "What does he look like?"
"Umm… he's-" Began the woman. Max cut her off with a barrage of coughs Black quickly supported him. Suddenly both seemed to realise that Max was injured and exhausted, they quickly carted him off to the remains of the ship.
"I'm gonna go. Explore! Or something." Black called after them. He got no response, shrugged and wandered towards the weird rock needles.