He had been comfortably slowing his rapid descent through the upper atmosphere when one of the two engines on the craft went offline, though he didn't know it immediately. The orange status indicator for the booster switching to red would have perhaps been noticed if not for his distraction and for the sea of yellow and orange warnings that littered his display, crowding it. The stress of the missing first engine began overtaxing the already impaired second, heating it to dangerous levels.
His attention had been rapt on the ground scanner console and the sheer visual splendor of the planet outside the viewing windows. Entering the middle atmosphere, he ordered his craft to slow and hover at a high enough altitude for him to get some proper readouts of the geography. As the remaining second engine attempted to break the craft's fall and maintain a set altitude, it overheated. The second engine took itself offline to cool and recover to prevent a catastrophic meltdown. The engine's warning switched to red, and that's when he dumbly noticed that both engines were offline. Now no longer resisting the forces of gravity, he realized that if he had noticed the first engine going offline, he probably would have been able to break clear of the atmosphere before descending deeper into the planet's gravity well and compromising the second.
He began to free-fall.
The craft pitched downwards, and the speed indicator on his console rapidly climbed. As the speed increased, the craft's exterior began heating from friction with the atmosphere. Now an unpowered glider, he activated the manual controls to stabilize his dive. He couldn't provide booster-assisted maneuvering, but the craft did have simple fins that could be used to pilot. He drew the controls back, pitching the craft at a high enough angle of attack to shave off some of its blinding speed through drag.
As a popular saying went: never two without three. As he wrestled with the controls to stabilize his fall, something on the craft exploded. What it was, he never got to see. The explosion caused damage to the outer layers of the ship, peeling off some of the insulating platings, leaving him encased in a frame of rapidly heating metal. Breached, the air blew out of the cabin through violent decompression. He screeched across the sky, realizing that there was no going back or up; there was only going down.
The ground scanner detected a lake ahead, thawing from the recent global warming. It was as good a place as any considering the circumstances - the inner frame of the ship was beginning to audibly groan and buckle under the stress. Slowly he dipped the front of the ship downwards toward the water, then, just before impact, angled the nose up to skip along the surface of the water, slowly breaking the speed. The bounce was rough, but the still-functioning flaps kept the rear down, and the craft did not tumble.
His emergency landing was being handled well, all things considered, and he was thinking that his results were laudable, exhilarating even when suddenly the bottom of the craft hit a hidden rock shelf resting just under the water. Abruptly decelerating, the craft flipped and tumbled, the sudden stresses violently shearing whatever remained of it in every direction. His suit locked up to prevent spinal damage as he was tossed from his craft like a rag-doll. Oblivion claimed him.
.
It was quiet and still when he awoke sometime later on the shore of the lake, looking up at the orange sky of a setting sun. He looked out over the surface of the lake. Whatever was remaining of the ship lay in the middle amidst billowing columns of steam. He watched it slowly sink beneath the surface in silent resignation. At his feet, the lake slowly lapped up debris. He would not be leaving for a very long time.
He checked himself. His hard suit diagnostics reported damage. Stranded on this planet, his hard suit was now irreparable, and all powered functionality would soon dwindle, serving only as personal unpowered armour. He removed his helmet to breathe in the new air, then hacked and spat saliva and blood onto the sandy shore. His insides felt less than okay from the crash, but he would heal. On his back, the artifact remained unmarked from any damage as usual.
He took mental stock of the research he had read about the planet and recounted it to himself - The world had several large fragmented landmasses separated by plentiful liquid water. Over seventy percent of it was hard water, a small percentage fresh like the lake he just climbed out of, and the rest frozen in its poles. Possessing an atmosphere consisting of large amounts of oxygen, nitrogen, argon, and carbon dioxide, it contained just the right amounts to sustain oxygen-breathing life, including himself. He turned around to view the surrounding land, looking as far as he could in every direction. The land here was semi-arid and hot, but the air was humid; there were freshwater rivers and marshes nearby. Where there were rivers and marshes, there were fish, birds, and game. All in all, it was very livable and a prime spot to land.
He should have been angry, wrathful even with the recently transpired events, but he wasn't. He stood in that spot by the edge of the lake, looking out onto the plains of this new world and was overcome by that particular feeling of adventure and pioneering spirit one gets in the face of such natural beauty. From what he saw of the planet from his disastrous descent, it was a marble of raw, untapped natural vision entirely unspoiled from the machines of industry. He wondered how much of it would get destroyed during the advancement of the indigenous.
When he awoke the following day fully healed, he thought he would scavenge what he could from his wreckage in the lake. There were bound to be supplies he could use for his initial stay before he got used to living tribal again. Then, he would need a reliable source of fire, a place to boil some water, an area to scope out the food choices and see the best places to hide during the cold nights. Basic comforts were now gone. He was rusty, but he knew how to live in the wilderness. His survival now depended on it. Once his basic needs were met, he would start looking for the species. The area seemed ripe for agriculture or an attractive spot for hunter-gatherers to return to.
Sensing the star would soon disappear over the horizon to mark another day, he proceeded to find somewhere to rest for the night. Finding a rocky outcropping covered in foliage, he lay uncomfortably in the remains of his hard suit. It would serve as basic protection from predators until he found a proper dwelling.
Looking up at the myriad twinkling stars, the vast emptiness of the universe looked down at him, ever silent. He thought about the species as he rested, where he might find them, where they might be. He thought about the planet, wondering what natural delights he might find. The prospect of running across a new world created a particular itch that excited him.
He looked at the stars. It would be a long time before he would be among them again. At least he wouldn't be alone for very much longer.
