Science Story: Eriden's Logs - Science Fiction

[davewave]

What happens when a young flight officer finds himself marooned on an alien planet?

Eriden's Logs are an ongoing story, a collection of Logs that Eriden himself is writing as he struggles for survival.

I am attempting to publish these as often as I can write them and I felt that orbitnauts would love a bit of original science fiction. You never know, one day you might be flying your DeltaGlider IV around an uncharted system and , well, it might just be you.

Each story is written in a reply post.
Feel free to leave comments, criticisms and even technical feedback. As always your support is hugely welcome and distribution of these stories is bound by international copyright laws.

Cheers!

---------- Post added at 04:51 AM ---------- Previous post was at 04:50 AM ----------

Day 3:


Has it already been three days? It feels like a month since the crash and I am still trying to put together in my mind the events leading up to now. I am surrounded in a deathly shroud of darkness, the cold chills my bones and I have been passing in and out of consciousness more frequently than I am comfortable with. There is a sound, a humming sound, my ravenous stomach is vibrating empathetically with the hum. Could it be the generator of the escape pod, or perhaps the force of the howling wind shearing against my lonely steel crib?


My mind is racing as I come to grips with my situation. The questions of where and why are displaced by my immediate fear of dying of thirst. They say that you shouldn't drink ice melted into water, it contains no minerals. I think I will die finding out.


I should try to scrounge around and see if I can find some survival gear. Then I will head out and explore. Not too far at first, but as my situation becomes more desperate I fear I will act in a desperate manner.


I will continue to use this escape pod as shelter until I find something better, or am rescued. Rescue... Do they even know I am here? The consortium pays its employees well and the bonus money is good, but would they be breaking the budget coming here to look for me? I can't think of that right now.


I really need to find some paper, or perhaps a data pad, etching these words on the back of the seat is proving more strenuous than I expected and I do not know how much longer this pen will last. A good survivor takes good notes. He should leave these notes for others to find and make sure to catalog every excursion. I just hope this will not be my final entry.






Chief Flight Officer Eriden


Cargo Vessel Goliath


Date 25th day of Antares, 1375 P.A.

---------- Post added at 04:51 AM ---------- Previous post was at 04:51 AM ----------

Day 4:


5:47 A.M.


Space is big, Huge in fact. Over a billion stars in this galaxy and they all have a heap of planets swinging around them. If I had to make a list of places to crash land, this planet would be right down the bottom of that list. Frigid yet arid, dark and remorseless, harsh and foreboding. This is not where I plan to live the rest of my days.
I decided I would put a hold on the EVA until I am better equipped. Maybe if I can get together some tools, a source of light and heat, and something from the survival gear. The survival gear's location eludes me and I may need to go outside to find it.
After doing a more thorough review of this craft one thing is for sure, she is dead, lifeless and irreparable. With a few loose wires, some insulation from the floor of the craft and some finger numbing haberdashery, I've put together a small survival pouch to take with me out into the unknown.
I've nearly finished my pouch now, should only take a few more hours to complete.




1:13pm


I am not as skilled a handyman as I thought I was. Time wasted. The partly torn pouch I assembled will suffice for now. I secured a length of safety harness to enable it to be carried with ease. The remaining insulation from the floor and ceiling will help tremendously in bulking up my clothes and keeping me warm but will take a lot of effort to achieve as it is very confined in this tin can. Every time I want to turn around I have to pull my feet up to my head and roll around to face the other way. Claustrophobic's beware. I really need some paper.


3:00pm
Time for a rest and some more scripture.
During the removal of the insulation there were a couple of times where I felt odd, a cold shiver. I thought I might have touched on some live electric wires but something I felt deep in my bones told me that it had nothing to do with the electricity or the chilling sub zero atmosphere not 30 centimeters from my nose. I am either paranoid, hungry, alone or all the above.
I think I will rest another hour as I must hasten my excursion. The night seems to be lasting a long time and I have no idea as to when, if ever, daytime will arrive. One more hour, just one more and then I will go.

 

[Tommy]

I would add a few more details about the planet he is stranded on. So far all I know is that it's cold. Is there any atmosphere? If so, is it breathable?

Granted, these details can be added in as the story progresses - and should be "trickled" in rather that dumped on us all at once.

As this is a survival log, a few details about how he came to be marooned would be appropriate quite early in the log - as well as some details about the ship. Is it an actual ship - or an escape/survival pod? From the description of the cramped quarters, I would suspect some sort of "life boat".

You would think that a CFO would be familiar with the location of supplies in the escape pod. This isn't a raw newbie, or tourist. This is an experienced space veteran, and I would expect the log to be quite factual and "military reportish" at first - and degenerate as time goes by.

Just my opinion, look forward to further installments.

 

[davewave]

I would add a few more details about the planet he is stranded on. So far all I know is that it's cold. Is there any atmosphere? If so, is it breathable?

Granted, these details can be added in as the story progresses - and should be "trickled" in rather that dumped on us all at once.

As this is a survival log, a few details about how he came to be marooned would be appropriate quite early in the log - as well as some details about the ship. Is it an actual ship - or an escape/survival pod? From the description of the cramped quarters, I would suspect some sort of "life boat".

You would think that a CFO would be familiar with the location of supplies in the escape pod. This isn't a raw newbie, or tourist. This is an experienced space veteran, and I would expect the log to be quite factual and "military reportish" at first - and degenerate as time goes by.

Just my opinion, look forward to further installments.

Yes, all the answers will be revealed but I am trying to be realistic about this. Even a trained officer (and he is not in the military, think Ripley from the Nostromo) would be shaken up by their experience. I'm basing alot of survival knowledge on the SAS survival guide and realistic scenarios that can occur. Also I had considered whether he would be familiar with the location of supplies in the escape pod (it is a pod, very small, room for one) and I figured that he may know his ship inside out but who ever thinks to learn the escape pods that well.

I agree that the logs will degenerate in time sort of how in Cast Away, Tom Hanks character ends up opening all but one of the fed ex boxes because he cared less about protocol and more about survival. A simple transition.

I agree that the logs should be more factual but I think right now his state of mind is in a bit of panic, after all he really needs to get something to eat and drink and I don't think his state of mind is condusive to proper writing. I know because I wrote the first log after not eating for 2 days myself and drinking only bits of water and tea.

I'm glad you are enjoying so far, will attempt more soon. keep posted!

 

[Tommy]

I figured that he may know his ship inside out but who ever thinks to learn the escape pods that well.

Any commercial sailor will know the lifeboat better than the actual ship - because they know that their life could depend on it. I would think the same would hold true for interplanetary commercial spaceflight - which would have more in common with sailing than will aeroflight!

I agree that the logs should be more factual but I think right now his state of mind is in a bit of panic, after all he really needs to get something to eat and drink and I don't think his state of mind is condusive to proper writing.

That makes quite a lot of sense, once I think about it!

 

[davewave]

Eriden's Log Day 5

Day 5:
The frigid shock hit me like an icy barrier as I fell forwards out of the pod. The wind's turbulent force carried me several undignified meters before I could regain my hold on the ground.

The biting first blow, as I stumbled out of the pod, seemed to arouse memories of the crash that lay dormant in my hazy mind. In a blinding instant I recalled painful flashes of the incident that led me astray. The screams of horror and the scorching flames of the Goliath as it was being torn apart. Deriana, my navigator and confidant. Did she find a way out, perhaps hidden away in a small nook on this planet like me? I remember the look on her forlorn face. A gaze of despair, fear, but there was something else hidden behind those glazed and saddened eyes. Guilt. Deriana was always committed to her work with an undying passion, never letting her constant pride in her success and accuracy define her character. This time it seemed that Deriana's pride was being challenged and defined by the tragedy that had befallen us all.

Fear was rampant within the crew. We has found something. I cannot remember what it was but I know it was something that no human has ever seen before. And it devastated our ship, tearing us to ribbons. The burning memories of the hellish end to the Goliath gave me uninvited warmth, sickening and thawing my core.
I trundled on into the icy wasteland, clinging onto the sides of the pod whilst manoeuvring feebly around to the rear. It was here I expected to find a service hatch which might contain what I was so desperately looking for. Half blind from the sheering wind, my eyes tearing up from the assaulting sub zero freeze, I placed my hands upon the smooth cool exterior of the pod. Feeling my way around like a lost soul, my fingers suddenly caught a raised bar. It was the handle attached to the hatch.

The hatch was sealed. Frosted shut, the hatch seemed to be mocking me. A final gesture of nature attempting to amplify the lamenting events that I had endured since the first evacuation siren sounded aboard the Goliath. Cold piercing even raw metal, I attempted several jarring pulls on the handle and then, without any warning, I was thrown back with colossal force as the hatch became unstuck.

I gave an exultant cry of glee as I peered into the gaping hole that the hatch had now revealed. The survival pack, in all it's glory, unharmed and tame, as if my opening of the hatch was part of rehearsed gathering. I hurriedly grasped for the handle of the pack, yanking it out with all my strength, not wanting to waste any more time. Skidding on the icy surface, I clumsily made my way back to the entrance of the pod. The heavy steel door still wide open, shaking violently with every oncoming wave of the wind. I fell, almost lifeless into the pod and quickly turned to close shut the pod door.

Like a greedy little child on his birthday, I flicked both the latches open on the front of the survival pack and swung open the lid. Food rations, water rations, heat sticks, flares and many other assorted tools of use stared up at me, smiling. I was saved. For now. I also now had paper in the form of a log book, and an ink pen.

The bleakness of my predicament was washed away with the mouthfuls of water I drank from the supplies. With the muffled sounds of the wind outside, and my thirst partially satiated, I had fallen into a restful sleep, cares of the world put on hold.