He lays still, his body battered and exhausted, as he tries to come around the impossible conundrum in front of him. He didn't die. He should be glad he's not stranded in space; he should be glad the pod didn't disintegrate at the contact with the atmosphere, but he cannot shake off the atavic terror that clutches at his heart.

He landed on a planet. A habitable, lush, wild planet. He might as well be the first one to set foot on it. He doesn't know. The limited computer that powers his visor doesn't contain any useful information, but he's sure what he's doing is unprecedented. A new world, and he's taking the first step on it.

A little step— how was it? His brain doesn't remember, the shock of the voyage still smothers away any rationality. He shrugs. What he will see here won't matter.

He won't meet back with anyone to celebrate.