At the edge of delirium, and exhaustion, my mind reels
at my predicament. Sobbing uncontrollably, I realize I am doomed to an
inevitably painful, and isolated death. I was piloting a small one man
cargo shuttle near Orion when a micro meteor punctured my fuel cell.
The impact altered my course as well. By the time I got the cell
patched, my reserves were so low that fighting the gravity of a
planetary landing was not an option. I had to find an asteroid, or moon
but it had to be on my present course. I didn't have enough fuel for a
course correction, and a landing. Three days passed, and my oxygen
levels were running low, as were my choices and time. Early the fourth
day a small meteor trapped in a stars gravity loomed nearly dead ahead.
The maneuver did required a small course correction, and as a result
the landing was very hard. I was lucky to survive, or so I thought at
the time.
I was on the surface for ten minutes when I left the ship to inspect
the damage. The sun began to rise on this tiny world, and so did the
temperature at an alarming rate. I raced to get back inside only to
find the door jammed, given more time I could have forced it, but my
suit was beginning to smolder. I had to run to get back to the narrow
band of twilight, abandoning my ship. I discovered that if I kept up a
vigorous pace, I could remain in the region between night and day. My
plan was to run into the dark side as far as possible, and wait for my
ship to come around again and gain entry then. I estimated the rotation
of this little globe at about four miles an hour. The night side was a
bitter cold, and the ground was brittle. Each step fractured the
surface into a thousand shards of basaltic glass. A seed of hope took
root when I saw my little ship on the horizon. Approaching my craft, it
became obvious the metal of the hull had been fused, and melted by
extreme heat. My hope turned to despair. I sat dow,n and stared at my
ship for twenty minutes, considering my options. The sun began to rise,
and with it the temperature.
I think it's been four days that I have been walking, although I'm not
entirely sure. I was going to try to make it to one of the poles of
this little rock, where I could sit and wait for the end by
suffocation. Now I understand that I am not going to make it there,
dehydration and exhaustion will not allow me the time. I think I will
just sit here and watch the sun rise… and try not to scream.
William VanDorin � 2001
