Chapter 2: AEX-153

Consciousness returned slowly, reluctantly, like surfacing through thick, viscous mud. Aris’s first sensation was pain – a sharp, pounding agony behind her right eye, a deep, aching protest from every muscle in her body. Her second sensation was wetness, a clammy dampness clinging to her skin and clothes. Then came the smell – thick, cloying, a bizarre perfume of overly ripe fruit, damp earth, ozone, and something metallic, like hot circuits after a burnout.

She groaned, trying to shift, her body screaming in complaint. Her restraint harness had held, thankfully, pinning her awkwardly sideways in the pilot’s chair. Through cracked viewport panels smeared with green slime and red dirt, she saw only a suffocating riot of vegetation pressing against the hull. Leaves broader than her torso, vines thick as docking cables, pulsating fungal growths clinging to the wreckage. The light filtering through was dim, green, subterranean.

“IRIS?” Her voice was a rough croak. Silence answered. The ship was utterly dead, power offline. Panic, cold and sharp, tried to rise, but years of ERA training kicked in. Assess. Prioritize. Survive.

First, self-assessment. She carefully unlatched the restraints, teeth gritted against the pain. Miraculously, nothing seemed broken, just heavily bruised. The cut on her head had bled, matting her dark hair, but seemed superficial. She pulled the emergency med-scanner from her thigh pocket – its internal battery thankfully functional. Vitals stable, minor concussion, significant soft tissue damage. Luckier than she had any right to be.

Next, the ship. It...