Victor's Ship had Disintegated Around...

Thousand+ Words a Day for Dec 13, 2025

Victor's ship had disintegrated around him; he had just barely gotten his suit sealed before the last of the air hissed away. He jetted himself clear of the pieces and then he did what every experienced orbital ironworker did when faced with an emergency.

He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and faded off to sleep.

It wasn't as hard to sleep just now in zero gee as it often was. Yes, he was in a difficult situation; yes,he'd have to implement an intersection orbit to the rescue station; yes, he'd have to file a report with the Bureau; yes, he'd have to meet with the smarmy insurance liaison. But he was tired and the event occurred right at the point in his daycycle when he would sleep, so he slept. There was no reason not too--he wouldn't wander very far off of his assigned orbit, even in six or eight hours, and surely he wouldn't sleep that long.

When Victor awoke, he was suddenly conscious of a terrible and terrifying weight pressing down on him--gravity. He was prone, facing upward, and he squinted against the rays of sunlight streaming through his visor. Instinctively he turned his head away andmeant to lift his arm to close the sunshade on the visor, but his arm was incredibly heavy, and he abandoned the attempt, deciding instead to try to roll onto his side and away from the Sun. He tried; if his arm was incredibly heavy, then his body was impossibly so, and after rocking a couple of times, he abandoned that also.

He became aware of heavy footsteps and they got heavier until they stopped, and then whatever it was threw a shadow down upon him and he opened his eyes to see a large shape of some sort, heavily backlighted.

Victor tried to speak, but as his helmet was closed, all he managed to do was to fill the small space with the sound of his own voice. But he was getting stronger, less groggy--this time, he managed to get his hand up and over to his faceplate, which he released. He was rewarded with the entry of cool, dense air; taking several breaths, his head cleared immensely. The black shape before him slowly came into a sort of focus. He took another deep breath and with his other hand, he pulled the stunner out of its pouch, brought it up and over, pointed it at the black shape, and fired.

There was no scream or grunt of pain or shock. Instead, the black shape spasmed, held the pose for a moment, and slowly fell backwards.

Victor lay there for a few minutes gathering his strength, which was returning, wondering if whatever it was that he had shot was going to get back up and attack in return. He managed to turn onto his side and then onto hands and knees. There were trees all around him; using the nearest, he managed to get onto his feet.

He was in what appeared to be a wooded area. The spindly trees around him were bare; the leaves which had presumably resided there during the summer now lay brown and lifeless in a layer on the ground. Using his boot, he kicked the leaves until he exposed the ordinary ground under them.

He now saw that the figure which had towered over him was a juvenile brown bear, Ursa arctos, one of several varieties that populated the forests of North America. As Victor peered over it, the animal kicked; the effects of the stunner were wearing off. Presuming that the bear had not been injured in the fall, it would be conscious--curious, possibly angry, almost certainly hungry--in a few minutes. He turned away from the bear and started picking his way through the trees, occupied with the sole intention of putting as much distance between himself and the hear as possible. The terrain was rising; as he looked backwards, he could see the bear and the trampled area where he had awakened. Then he was at the top of the ridge and continued, descending down the other side. The dry dead leaves he was stomping his way through sounded like thunder, but Victor knew the real problem was not the noise he was making but the scent trail he was leaving, which the bear would easily be able to follow, were he so inclined. So he stopped, reached down between his legs, found the outer suit zipper pull, and tugged it, unzipping the top of his suit. He sat down on the leaves, released the fasteners that attached his pants legs to the tops of his boots, and managed to work his legs out of the pants without removing the boots. He left his outer suit there on the ground and continued in his under suit, which would be less constraining.

The land was rising again, and when he got to the top of the next ridge, he paused, both to catch his breath and to assess how far he'd come --and whether he was being chased. He'd put about two miles between himself and the bear; he thought surely that was enough, and seeing no signs of being pursued, he sat down with his back against a tree to assess his situation.

As he sat, he became conscious of a noise above him--a mechanical noise, a low throbbing, punctuated by brief periods of whirring. it became louder, and finally in the distance, Victor caught sight of what looked like a blimp, it's metallic surface glinting in the sunlight. It slowly came closer; Victor stood and watched as it made its way to a position directly overhead. It was quite high up, but definitely hovering there, and Victor heard the throbbing stop as the ship turned its main engine off.

A dark spot developed on the underside of the ship, and then something came out of the dark spot, an object of some sort, and began a circling path around his position, descending as it circled.