Chapter 3 Prax #2
A planet suddenly appears at the edge of the now-depolarized main screen, yanking me out of my thoughts.
This giant sphere, streaked with bands of orange in varying shades, is stunning.
I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the incredible diversity of planets teeming across our galaxy.
I’m pretty sure the same goes for the neighboring ones, too.
From here, I can easily make out several moons orbiting around it.
“Azkarra, care to give me the grand tour?” I ask, sinking deep into my seat.
“Jupiter is the fifth and largest planet in solar system SS-3954, with an average diameter of 88,846 miles. It has no solid surface. Its gravitational pull is strong enough to keep a large number of satellites in orbit. So far, ninety-two have been identified—four of which are planet-sized—but none of those four moons were eligible for terraforming.”
“Right, so no chance of finding Bully there.”
“Confirmed. Your former associate would have no reason to be hanging around that sector.”
“In that case, drop vigilance level and dim the front panel. Cue up the Two Steps From Hell playlist—I’m gonna get some rest. Wake me at least two hours before we hit Mars. Even though our final destination is Earth, I’m curious to see what the place looks like.”
I leave my seat, pour myself a relaxing herbal infusion, and head to the rear compartment of the Bakartia—a no-frills washroom.
I slip into the narrow shower stall and start a cycle. Normally, showers are limited to three minutes per person, per day, on all Confederation ships.
I failed to extend the length of each cycle—but fortunately, I managed to double the number of daily cycles. Which means I can wash up every ten hours.
Not ideal, but it’s something. Still, I’d gladly double that frequency again if I could. We Sadjims are extremely particular about hygiene—and we take excellent care of our fur. And, not to brag, mine is especially soft and silky.
Once I’m clean and dry, I pull on a light pair of pants and stretch out on my bunk, just a few steps from the cockpit.
One forearm over my eyes, one leg bent, I sink into the bliss of this Human music. The Confederation was right. If some Humans are capable of the worst... others are absolutely extraordinary.
***
“So this is humanity’s backup planet, huh?” I mutter as I observe the mostly reddish globe through my main screen.
“Mars isn’t just humanity’s beta planet,” Azkarra corrects me, “but also home to several thousand animal and plant species! The Confederation attempted to reintroduce every Earth species compatible with extreme temperatures and high altitudes.”
“It only has two moons?” I ask, eyeing the two nearby celestial bodies.
“Exactly,” Azkarra confirms. “Deimos and Phobos, both orbiting close to the planet’s equatorial plane.
For your information, Martian days are almost the same length as Earth’s.
However, its year is nearly twice as long.
Currently, Mars and Earth are almost aligned with the Sun, which is why we’re passing by the first before reaching the second.
As you can see, due to its distance from the Sun, Mars is a very cold planet—hence the two massive polar ice caps.
The area designated for Humans lies between Arabia Terra and the Cydonia region, near the equator.
All other zones have been set aside for former Earth lifeforms.”
“Is that where Ileana came from?” I ask out loud without even realizing.
“No. According to my records, she was from a scientific space base. Neither she nor her parents ever set foot on Mars. Besides, this terraformed world is reserved for Earth’s former species only.
Humans are expected to fend for themselves on their last-chance planet, with only a few tools and guidance provided by the Confederation during their transfer. ”
“Then why did you rule Mars out as a possible destination for Bully? It’s closer, and conditions here seem more hospitable than what’s left of Earth.”
“Because, as I just said, Mars is reserved exclusively for former terrestrial creatures!”
Hmm. I see.
Sometimes my AI seems locked into rigid rules and protocols—completely opposite to the subversive nature of certain Coalition members. It simply doesn’t consider that a law might be bent, or outright ignored.
I still don’t know what Bully’s doing in this isolated solar system, but one thing’s certain—he’ll always go for the easiest, most profitable option.
If it’s valuable resources he’s after, Mars would’ve been a perfectly decent pit stop, whether the Confederation likes it or not.
They may think they’ve privatized this planet for a handful of Earthlings, but that won’t stop a guy like Bully.
“Azkarra, run a full scan, please. See if you detect any recent atmospheric entries. Unlike you, I’m not ruling out the possibility that Bully might be nearby.”
“You’re the one in charge, but I must insist—this option is highly improbable. With oxygen levels a third lower than those on Earth or Polaris, the environment here is far from ideal. It takes between six to eight days for a humanoid-type organism to acclimate to these extreme conditions.”
I won’t say it out loud, but she’s not wrong.
I really don’t see Bully hanging around in orbit for a week while his AI gradually adjusts his ship’s interior to match this planet’s ecosystem. Way too inconvenient for him.
As if to prove me wrong, a typical single-seat Coalition craft suddenly shows up on the Bakartia's scan.
Shit! What the hell is he doing here?!
Unfortunately, I don’t get time to ponder a thousand questions—because that’s when the alarm goes off.
“We’re under attack,” Azkarra informs me flatly in her metallic tone.
I leap into the pilot seat and strap in fast while my AI gives me the situation report. It’s not just one—we’re taking multiple successive hits.
“The Bakartia’s protective force field has failed,” Azkarra announces.
That’s very bad news. My whole body tenses, fur on end, already bracing for whatever disaster’s about to follow.
A violent jolt confirms that another shot just hit us head-on.
“Main thrusters are down, as well as the gravity stabilizers,” Azkarra states.
“Can you fix it?” I ask, more out of habit than hope.
“No. I’ll try to slow our descent using the emergency booster, but it won’t prevent the crash.”
The crash? Shit. We’re going down.
On this goddamn planet she just described as unpleasant in every possible way. Then again, I might not even survive the crash, so maybe I should worry about the rest after.
And I don’t even know who the hell shot at me!
Suddenly, the enemy vessel appears on the main screen.
Slowly, its cockpit de-polarizes, and I immediately recognize the scaly skin of my former associate.
Bully.
He was waiting for me. And like an idiot, I dove headfirst into his trap.
The cockpit vibrates violently as the ship starts a dizzying fall toward the reddish planet. Bully doesn’t follow long. Just enough to flash me a mocking grin and make sure I’ve recognized him.
“Azkarra? Get us out of here!” I growl anxiously.
“I can’t. I’m trying to steer us toward a suitable area—not entirely barren. If you survive the impact, remember to grab your emergency kit, breathing mask, sleeping pod, and full survival pack. Don’t forget your thermal-regulated suit either.”
I listen as Azkarra calmly lists everything I’ll need to stay alive. But my eyes are glued to the main screen… and the ground rushing up at a terrifying speed.
Instinctively, I dig my claws into the armrests of the pilot chair. Useless move, of course—but I do it anyway.
Everywhere I look, all I see are red mountains topped with heavy snow. No oceans, no city lights—nothing to suggest any large settlements nearby.
“Warning—impact imminent,” Azkarra says. “Speed too high. Attempting landing maneuver.”
Yeah, good luck with that!
Despite the velocity, I spot the relatively flat zone she’s aiming for. Needless to say, I’ve given up trying to pilot in these insane conditions. I’m using all my energy just to cling to my seat and brace for the inevitable.
We’re heading fast toward a vast frozen field, edged by mountains—and maybe even a few trees.
The good news? There’s no village or house in sight.
At least I won’t be taking anyone else down with me.
The bad? We’re still going way too fast—and the nose of the ship is angled far too low.
“Pull up, dammit!” I shout, nearly choking on stress.
Before I get a reply, the Bakartia slams into the ground—thankfully in an almost-horizontal position—and continues skidding wildly across the icy surface. The scraping and groaning noises are deafening. A small compartment on the console suddenly pops open.
“Hull integrity compromised. Cabin depressurizing. Oxygen levels dropping rapidly. Prax, you must use the breathing mask inside the compartment,” Azkarra states, ever so calmly.
I snatch the mask and slap it onto my face. It’s connected to a small air canister by a thin tube—no more than twenty inches long.
The Bakartia keeps sliding—nothing to slow it down, not even a bush or blade of grass. At this rate, we’re gonna crash straight into the mountain looming ahead.
“Deceleration in progress,” Azkarra warns.
Really? Doesn’t feel like it. But maybe I’m too on edge to notice.
After what feels like forever—though probably just a few seconds—the ship comes to a brutal stop with a haunting crunch.
“Bakartia halted,” Azkarra reports. “Our trajectory intersected a small rocky surface. Damage report as follows: landing gear torn off, hull breached at—”
I barely register the damage inventory. All I can think is: I’m alive. I survived an emergency crash landing. On a viable planet, no less.
Sure, it wasn’t in the plan, and things are about to get seriously complicated. Judging by the barren ground outside and the earlier warnings about this world’s extreme conditions, survival won’t be easy. But the hardest part’s done: I’m alive.
Little by little, I get my wits back and start forming a plan. I retract my claws from where they’ve punctured the armrests. Then I decide to send a distress call to Akifumi—my superior within the Confederation—to let him know just how royally screwed I am.
I also warn him that Bully is nearby and could pose a threat to others, even if today’s attack felt awfully personal. I mention the potential presence of other Coalition members in this solar system.
It’ll take time for that message to reach him—and even longer for help to arrive. Until then, I’m on my own.
“Azkarra, can you gradually lower the oxygen levels in the cabin so I can adjust to the atmosphere outside?”
“Negative. Did you not hear the list of breached panels? Our oxygen is leaking—slowly but steadily.
In four hours, you’ll be at the same oxygen level as the exterior. I suggest you retrieve the full-face breathing mask from the cargo bay. You’ll be able to program it for gradual adaptation. You’ll need to wear it for at least six days to avoid hypoxia.”
Ah, shit!
So much for lying low in the cabin, munching on survival bars for a few days. And now I’m stuck with a helmet on my head for the better part of a week?
That’s gonna suck.
Suddenly, a loud crack rips through the cabin. My whole body goes still, waiting to see what comes next.
An attack?
Then it clicks.
That wasn’t an explosion—it was a fracture.
The icy water flooding my bare feet confirms what I was struggling to accept: I didn’t land on a frozen field—I crashed onto a frozen lake. And the ice is starting to break up under the impact and the ship’s weight.
I unstrap myself at once, and the mask is still strapped to my face. But to move through the cabin, I’ll have to remove it.
“The Bakartia is sinking through the ice. You must evacuate immediately,” Azkarra informs me. “Don’t forget your thermal-regulated suit, your survival kit, your weapon, and—”
I’m not listening anymore. I have to get out before the ship goes under completely and the surface refreezes.
No time for the suit—it takes too long to put on.
Right now, the cabin’s oxygen drop is manageable, though every new breath feels a bit tighter than the last.
I just grab the sealed survival bag, stuff my weapon into it, and strap it to my back.
No time for anything else—water’s already at my waist.
“Azkarra, open the side hatch!”
No response.
Azkarra’s gone silent. The Bakartia is now nothing more than a sinking coffin.
I reach for the emergency panel near the hatch and trigger the manual override.
Immediately, a flood of icy water rushes in, sweeping me back from the exit.
I fight to stay near the hatch, struggling more with each painful gasp. Azkarra wasn’t kidding—the oxygen drop is hitting hard.
As the freezing wave swallows the cabin and the ship tilts heavily forward, I take one last breath and launch myself toward the exit with everything I’ve got.
It works—I burst into the open. But no time to celebrate.
I’m being pulled downward—dragged by the sinking Bakartia.
I dig my claws into the edge of the ice above and fight with everything I have not to get dragged down with it.
When everything finally stills, I’m completely spent.
I take a few seconds just to breathe and look around.
My first real look at this planet—Mars.
The lake’s edge is close. I should be able to reach shelter. But the air is brutally cold. Each ragged breath feels more like sucking in frozen glass than actual oxygen. And I’m not exactly cold-sensitive.
With a final effort, I haul myself out of the water and collapse onto my back. My heart is pounding. My head is spinning. I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out.
Dressed only in a soaking pair of pants—that’s definitely not ideal. I’m not usually bothered by the cold, but not even my fur can protect me from the brutal temperatures here—especially soaking wet and half-conscious.
Trying in vain to catch my breath, I stare up at the pink-tinged sky. My ears are ringing. The world is spinning around me.
I let go... and lose consciousness.