Paradise Found

Blake paused for a second, picking the next words carefully, then, "I will continue to enter these log entries for as long as I can, but if something should happen to me or if it will be centuries before someone discovers these logs... whoever finds this, know that there was a member of the Terrin race that survived the folly of a war that should never have happened. And one that hopes someone out there in the vastness of space is smart enough not to make the same mistake we made."

Blake shut down the log recording and stretched in his chair, working out the last of the kinks in his body. He was still a bit sore from the bumps and bruises he received, but knew he would heal given a little time... and that was the one thing he had in abundance: time. How long would he be stuck on the alien world? How long would he have to wait for a response to his distress call and rescue?

"No," he muttered, steeling his resolve, "don't think about it; you've got enough to worry about now. The main thing is to stay alive long enough for a rescue," he glanced out of the view port, seeing the sun's light glinting off the various colors and shapes of the plant life, "That shouldn't be too hard."

Blake decided to forgo the full report the computer was putting together and get something to eat, as well as take some medical tablets and see to any wound he might have missed. Other than a large bruise on his upper arm and a small gash on one knee (easily fixed with a regenaplaser), he was in fairly good shape, considering. His head still ached, but that would disappear soon enough with the medication he took.

Dinner was a re-sequenced meal of spaghetti and meatballs with a fruit drink and once done, Blake set about to the task of repairing whatever systems were repairable. Communications were working alright, except for the hyper-light channels; since he wasn't in space, he wouldn't need them anyway. The best power output he could coax out of the reactor was about 65% without overloading any engineering systems, but he brought it down to a lower level knowing that half the systems on the shuttle weren't needed, again because it wasn't in space. That would stretch out the remaining fuel supply to last almost a year before being depleted.

Blake had the chance to check the scanner readings he took of the planet before he crashed. They showed a bright blue world of 70% surface water, and the continents were sprayed with the living colors of greens and browns. The white cloud cover drifted lazily over mountains and seas, and capping the planet top and bottom were wide areas of polar ice and snow. If he didn't look closely at it, he could swear he was looking at Terria even though the shape of the land masses were radically different.

But the one major thing it didn't show was any indication of industry, technology, or anything that even hinted at a city. No buildings or structures could be detected, as well as ground or air traffic, and nothing suggested signs of mass amounts of life forms grouped together, intelligent or otherwise. Animal life abounded, on the lands and in the vast seas, but no sapient life could be found... anywhere.

"So much for searching for intelligence," he mumbled, defeated.

The sky was darkening and the setting sun was casting long shadows until they disappeared under a blanket of twilight. Blake made sure all systems were secured for the night and sealed the outer hatch before going to sleep. Before heading for one of two small sleeping compartments, he glanced out the view port and saw a beautiful dull white globe easing its way over the horizon. It was the planet's natural satellite, a large pock marked orb of white and gray that bore a striking resemblance to one of the two moons that circled his own world, pitted and scarred with centuries old impact craters.

"Well I'll be," he whispered, smiling, "It looks just like Lunae, but a lot bigger."

Blake closed the blast shield, cutting off the nighttime vista, and went to the sleep cubicle. Stretching out on the bunk, he dimmed the lights and faded off to a much welcomed slumber, the thoughts of new discoveries drifting through his mind.

* * *

Blake adjusted the backpack on his shoulders and checked his harness one final time before embarking on his trip through the wilds that surrounded his downed ship. Sealing the hatch to make sure that nothing, animal or otherwise, wandered inside the craft, he said, "Okay, every journey begins with a first step; time to take it." He inhaled deeply, sampling the fresh air full of the scents of living things and added, "Let's see what this world has to offer."

Armed with a porta-scanner, Blake traipsed through the brush and wild grass in search of new and interesting things. Idly scanning the plants he passed, he found that they were not all that different from the flora his own world offered. The shapes and textures varied slightly, but all of the colors were represented.

He came upon a small grove of trees that were bearing fruit, and he plucked a round yellowish globe from a low branch. Another tree bore fruit in an odd shape, almost hourglass with a greenish brown hue, and snagged one of them as well. Placing them in a pocket on his pack, Blake scanned and cataloged a half dozen different types of fruit, including some brown oval pods as big as his thumb that hung down from branches with fan-like fronds. Another was a tear shaped gourd no bigger than his palm, colored a brownish purple, and he pocketed those next to the others.

As he wandered through the fruit and flower laden garden, Blake caught the sound of running water. Pushing aside tall reeds and fat leafy bushes, he found a small river churning and bubbling calmly through the greenery. Edging up to the shoreline, he scanned for life forms and found plenty of them swimming about.

"Those are the oddest looking vertha I've ever seen," he remarked, watching the wiggling water creatures make their way through the currents.

Blake spent the whole afternoon exploring the vast garden of life that stretched out for at least a kilometer before the ground gave way to rocks and sand covered shale, scanning and recording everything within his sight. The growing array of wildlife was like an oasis in the middle of the desert and he delighted in the fact that it reminded him of home. But at the same time, it saddened him to know that his home was no more and would never be as beautiful as the world he was seeing ever again.

Blake shrugged, "Well... if I have to be shipwrecked, I sure picked a good spot."

Gathering as many samples that would fit in his pack, he headed back to his ship, eager to get at testing and evaluating them.

As he approached his craft, Blake heard what he thought was thunder in the distance. He searched the sky for dark clouds, but saw none; it puzzled him. The rumble of thunder boomed out again, making him search harder for the source and still seeing no storm clouds.

"Okay, if that wasn't thunder, then what was it?"

In a startling split second, the ground shook under his feet and a monstrous boom echoed out over the landscape, making him clamp his hands over his ears. Letting it die off, he released his ears and heard a roar overhead and the sputtering of engine thrusters. Another blast of sound rang out, this time throwing him off his feet and sending him to the ground, followed by a jarring impact of something heavy that made the area tremble again. Only when the shaking stopped did he push himself up and spring to his feet, frantically searching for the source of the racket and finding it.

Just on the other side of the river, he estimated, was a billow of smoke and a cloud of dirt; something big had just landed, and it filled Blake's heart with hope. Someone responded to his distress call and came for him, and he set out towards the river dodging trees and shrubs along the way.

But halfway there, he skidded to a stop and took his hand away from the comm clip he instinctively made a grab for.

"Whoa, wait a minute," he said, "How do I know it's a rescue craft? Damn it Blake, you're suppose to be careful and follow protocol. You don't know that's a ship answering your distress signal; it could be something else, maybe even hostile."

Taking his steps more cautiously, Blake moved sideways and headed upstream of the river to get a better view of the opposite bank and keep himself hidden among the thicker brush on his side. Reaching the river bank, he slowly parted the bushes lining the water's edge and took a peek. What he saw made his jaw dropped.

Amidst the downed trees and kicked up dirt was another ship, slammed into the ground with tremendous force. It was similar in shape to his own cutter but smaller, with a few pieces of equipment in different places and painted a darker color. But Blake immediately knew what kind of ship it was, even without the large red, four point star etched into the hull. It was a five man scout shuttle, belonging to the Coalition... the opposing government to the Alliance.

The enemy.

"Oh, great," he huffed, sarcastically, "Exactly what I needed."

The scout was in about the same condition as Blake's cutter: all banged up and damaged with cracks in the outer hull puffing out smoke and leaking fluids. Its single engine nacelle was a lost cause, charred black and barely being held in place by its twisted support strut. Every thruster port he could see was covered in exhaust soot, telling him that the occupants used every means to get back into the air or at least make a softer landing, and failed miserably. The ship was a total loss, and Blake wondered if there was anyone inside left alive.

"Well, my 'landing' wasn't so graceful either, and I'm alive," he muttered, peering at the wreck and searching for any sign of movement, "but if they survived, what kind of a mood are they going to be in when they find out about me?"

Evening was approaching, and Blake knew he wouldn't be able to search the craft and the surrounding area without proper lighting, not knowing if anyone was still on board and alive. He had to get back to his ship and secure it; it was more defensible than being out in the open at night.

Staying low, Blake crawled through the wild brush and thicket of trees until he was reasonably sure he was out of the other ship's line of sight, then hightailed it back to his craft. Hurrying inside, he locked the outer hatch and view port shield, then went to the comm station after dumping his pack on a work table and opened the log file.

"Ship's log, 19:45 hours, day 2: I spent the whole day exploring the area and found a plethora of interesting wildlife, both flora and fauna, and brought back a few specimens for study. If the fruits are anything like the ones I'm use to eating, I shouldn't have to worry about food for quite a while."

"However, my immediate concern is the ship that just landed about half of kilometer away. If this is the rescue I've been waiting for, I'm not too happy about it. The scout craft belongs to the Coalition, the enemy government of the Alliance, and if whoever is on board still thinks the war is continuing, I may have a problem."

"Night is now here and I can't see too clearly around the downed ship, but from what I could see the ship is a total wreck. There's no way it'll fly again, so whoever is still alive is stuck here just like I am until their mother ship picks them up, if any. For all I know, a Coalition ship may have survived the war and is in orbit right now, scanning for its missing scout."

"I'll lock myself in the cutter and wait until dawn to check it out. I don't know if finding anyone will be a good thing or not; whoever it is, they're the enemy. But being alone here isn't all it's cracked up to be, either."

Blake went to his sleep chamber and laid down with a sense of unease, but relaxed a little knowing his weapon was right next to him as he drifted off.

* * *

The panel next to his cot quietly beeped at him, telling him it was morning. Blake sleepily groped for it and shut it off, yawning away the drowsiness. Then he blinked the sleep out of his eyes rapidly, remembering what happened yesterday; he had a mission to carry out.

Quickly getting dressed and snapping on his weapon harness and survival pack, Blake cautiously opened the hatch with his hand on his blaster. Taking a quick look, he saw no one around.

"Maybe they don't know I'm here," he said, then opened the log file on the comm console.

"Ship's log, 08:10 hours, day 3: I'm leaving the ship to check out my new visitors; hopefully they're in a good mood and are willing to talk. If there's anyone alive, they must know that there's no one left on either side of the war and the fighting is over. It may be wishful thinking but, if we're going to survive, we'll have to work together. I'm willing to cooperate to that end; I just hope they are, too."

Blake was going to add that if he shouldn't make it back... but changed his mind and shut off the log; he'd be back. Locking the hatch behind him, he set off towards the other ship.

The morning sun bathed the garden in golden light as Blake carefully made his way through the plant life, staying down and hiding behind thick bushes and outcroppings of rocks. After thirty or so minutes, he was back at the edge of the river. He peered through the brush... and was treated to a surprise.

All around the downed craft were stacks of crates and supplies, a few showing signs of wear from being jostled about in the crash. There was somebody still alive, but Blake already knew that; the person in the river was what got his immediate attention.

It was a woman, bathing in the water and cleaning her nude body. Her long wavy hair, about the same sandy brown color as his own, was slicked back and cascaded down her bare back. Her ample bosom glistened with wetness as she washed away the dirt and soot from her skin, taking great care not to get the bandage around her arm wet.

Blake quietly slipped down the embankment to get a closer look, staying hidden behind whatever he could as the girl slowly walked out of the river. Her naked figure was curvy and lithe, her buttocks rounded and taut as well as her legs, and she strolled over to a boulder where her uniform was laying. It was a different style, with darker colors and patterns, but there was no mistaking that she was an officer of the Coalition about the same rank as he held.

Blake's eyes widened at the sound of a shrill beep. A life detection sensor activated and told the young lady that there was someone near.

"Fuck," he muttered, annoyed that he was so careless and chided himself for not being more alert. He let the sight of the naked girl distract him and just gave himself away.

The girl quickly darted around, her boobs swaying with the movement, and grabbed at her uniform. But instead of clothes, there was a weapon in her hands; a pulse rifle.

"Oh, shit," Blake hissed as a bolt from the weapon lanced out and struck the rock he was hiding behind, sending pieces of stone everywhere.

"Whoa!" he blurted, reeling back and away from the explosion and got his hand around his blaster. He yanked the weapon out of its holster and dropped down to his stomach behind the charred rock, ready to take aim at his shooter.

"Hold your fire!" he yelled out. His answer was another blast that whizzed pass the side of the rock. He popped up and tried to take a bead on his target, but jotted down just as quickly when another bolt from the girl's rifle blasted another chunk of rock away.

"Okay," said Blake in frustration, "that's the way you want it? Fine; to Hell with diplomacy." He grabbed the piece of rock that was shot off his cover and flung it down the embankment, rolling it through the tall reeds and making them waver. Just as he predicted, the woman started firing at the moving grass and that's when he made his move.

Blake sprang up and fired his blaster, not at the woman but at the boulder next to her. Bolts of bright red energy leaped forward and touched the rock, sending shards of stone flying out in a sharp explosion. The girl let out a high pitched yelp as her body was flung back from the blast, her rifle flying out of her hands and her body hitting the ground with a thud.

"Shit!" Blake ran out from behind his rocky cover and down to the river's edge. He waded through the slow moving waters to the other side and jogged up to the fallen girl once his feet hit dry ground. He grabbed the discarded rifle and leaned it up against the smoldering boulder, then turned his attention to the woman lying on the ground unconscious.

He knelt down, gently turning her over, and groused, "Aw, fuck," upon seeing the wound on her forehead, blood running down her temple; one of the shards of stone ricocheting off of her head when he blasted the boulder.

"Damn it, that's not what I wanted!" he barked, digging through his pack and bringing out a medical kit, "Nice going Blake, you fucking idiot! 'To Hell with diplomacy'... yeah, brilliant!"

He carefully dabbed at her wound with gauze, seeing it wasn't as bad as it looked, and cleaned away the bright red blood. Tossing the bloodied wipe, he reached for and clicked on a regenaplaser and slowly swiped a beam of lavender light over the wound and forced it to heal. Once done, he crinkled a small blue packet of bio-freeze to mix the cooling chemicals in it and pressed it to her head.

As she lied there, Blake checked over the rest of her body and saw no other wounds, other than the bandaged arm and a couple of scrapes that would heal on their own. He untie the gauze around her bicep and saw a nasty gash in the muscle. He sprayed the wound with antiseptic and swiped it with the regenaplaser as well, pulling the skin together and mending it closed. But afterward, he had the chance to see how beautiful his 'enemy' really was.

The girl, about the same age as Blake, had a lovely face that looked fresh and new; a young and 'new' officer like he was. Her tantalizing curves were still damp from the river water, a few droplets clinging to the thin strip of light brown fur that topped her vagina. She was a gorgeous little woodland nymph in his eyes and he found it difficult to believe that she was a soldier, but the uniform and pulse rifle lying next to the boulder reassured him that she was.

Blake's eyes lit up again, realizing once more what an idiot he was; he didn't think to check out the rest of the area for any more Coalition soldiers. Berating himself, he pulled his weapon and stepped over the unconscious girl heading for the ship. He pressed himself against the burned and scarred hull, edging his way to the open hatch and took a deep breath before entering the wreck.

His eyes darted everywhere, looking all around the cabin for any sign of movement. He had a hunch that he wouldn't find anyone else, figuring someone would have joined the girl's firefight once the melee started, but he was taking no more chances. He'd already fucked up standard protocol several times; he wasn't going to do it anymore.

The interior of the ship was in just as bad of shape as the outside, consoles and equipment smashed and burned out with pieces of just about everything littering the deck. The flight controls looked undamaged but they were dark and unusable, and the (he guessed) science station was equally out of commission. It was a wonder the woman survived at all, given the damage all around him. Not a single thing was working as he searched the compartments, and he saw no other bodies throughout the craft; she was alone, like him.

Leaving the wreck, Blake walked around the exterior of the ship and found exactly what he excepted to see: cracked hull plates, scorched equipment pods, and an engine that was completely useless. Even if it was still working, Blake couldn't use any of the components to fix his own ship; they weren't compatible with the technology the Alliance used. His and their government purposely made the ships that way to prevent an enemy from gaining the upper hand, and he shook his head in disgust at the stupidity of it all.