#aerppara

[liberated-libby-blog]

A Minute's Walk | Self/Open

“Please, you go ahead, meet with the others. I’d like to check the storage room for remaining survivors.”

"Pegasus, I'm not sure if that would be advisable -"

Well. A little too late for that, then. She watched her brother hurry in another direction, wondering - very briefly - if she ought to follow him. In the end, she decided it was far more important to exit the Equinox and find out who else had survived.

She already knew Hartford wouldn't be there.

Her visual sensors took a moment to adjust to the sunlight; it was not a piercing sort of light, but it was a great contrast with the darkness of the ventilation shaft. 

Her epidermal sensors also noted another feature of this new planet - it was raining. Perhaps it rained all the time. Perhaps the inhabitants didn't have a word for rain. Libby examined it on her skin and concluded that it was potable water - excellent for the humans.

The planet could be their temporary shelter until the UNSC came for them. Because it would. Libby was certain that they would. 

The half of the Equinox she had just squirmed out of continued to creak ominously. She probably should have compelled Pegasus to leave with her - cut their losses, and so on. The ones who had survived should have left already.

Too late.

Turning, she observed some of the escape pods having landed some distance away from the Equinox. The other survivors had to be gathered close by. Agent Lincoln was also probably somewhere near the ship, having helped create the hole for her and Peggy's - well, just her's now - exit.

She had no idea how time might function on the foreign planet, but she was fairly certain it was growing darker, if the dimming skyline was any indication. 

Her primary scan of the landscape done, Libby decided to find the rest before conducting closer examinations. Her hand, or lack thereof, was still a matter that needed to be addressed somehow. Perhaps she could find some supplies on the ship. 

Then a voice spoke through the implant - Orion, she recognised, and she could see the flare he was speaking of, much closer than she had guessed. In fact, close enough for her to see the clear figures of a few survivors already. 

She didn't bother to reply. Other voices were speaking, other survivors, and one by one she named them and counted them, as she began a brisk walk towards the source of the flare.

[undercover-agent-lincoln-blog]

[Escape Pods] We're Definitely Not In Kansas Anymore, Toto [Open]

Someone, Lincoln managed to think hazily, should have designed those fucking escape pods to watch out for asteroids.

All he could see was black and blue, blurs of color that he couldn't quite figure out. The blue seemed to be sky, but what was the black? Something waving in the corner of his vision, one big blob. The grass he seemed to be lying on was solid, at least, even if his head was still whirling.

His escape pod had gotten clipped by an asteroid in the belt, tearing out a chunk of the side of the pod and sending it spinning. The force of metal crumpling inward had taken out a piece of his chest armor, but it had mostly protected him from any serious injury. But whatever GPS system the pod was equipped with had gotten damaged, and even though his helmet had still been secure enough to keep feeding him oxygen, Lincoln had known he was in trouble.

He'd kept a calm head as best he could. Waiting, trying to time everything perfectly. And as impact had been seconds away, he'd activated his armor enhancement. His vision had lit up with red as the energy surrounded him, temporary invulnerability shielding from the worst of the impact. But then he'd gotten thrown from the pod, the shield faltering as it absorbed too much damage.

He'd bounced down the side of a small hill, into a tree, and then rolled the rest of the way down, coming to a final stop on the grass.

It hadn't been fucking pleasant.

Get up, Dhatri.

Just fucking get up.

Lincoln took a breath, grimacing as pain jolted through his side. He carefully picked his way to his feet, looking down. A goddamn tree branch, maybe an inch around, had lodged itself between his bottom two ribs. His blood looked dark against the t-shirt he'd worn under the armor, but the branch didn't feel like it had gone in too deep.

What limited medical knowledge he had advised him that he shouldn't pull it out, not until he had a medic nearby. So Lincoln took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. All Agents trained for stealth and infiltration were also trained in torture resistance, just on the off chance they got captured--and Lincoln had had plenty of experience. So he took the pain, and he filed it away. Mind over matter. Couldn't use it too much, of course, because pain was a useful mechanism, but it looked like he had something of a walk in front of him.

He took his helmet off, tucked it under his arm, and took one step after another, making his way toward the wreck of the ship he could see. Panic threatened to make itself known, but he filed that away too.

Pegasus. Was Pegasus alive?

Focus, Dhatri. Just keep walking.

So he walked, and a mile later he spied the sight of an escape pod. A few of the Agents seemed to be gathered. Not nearly as many as there should be.

"Someone," he announced, his voice tight, "needs to tell me how many survivors we have accounted for right now, and what rescue resources we have."

[apathetic-adaptability-blog]

[Equinox Crew] Crashed and Burning

The silence was perhaps the most unnerving thing to Peter.

While others had gotten to the escape pods, Peter had not. He had not known if his consciousness would transfer to one of the spare forms that the Equinox held in storage, but he got his answer when he opened his eyes and found that he was indeed still alive. He remembered his corporeal form being destroyed--the hangar had crumpled upon impact--and the feeling had been . . . disconcerting.

The storage he had woken up in was right at the tear in the ship; the far wall was gone, replaced with a chasm of blackened metal and blue sky beyond that.

Agent Nashville?

No answer. The implant link was still offline.

And he was surrounded by the very still spare bodies of his brothers and sisters.

Scrambling upright, Peter cautiously made his way to the very edge of the tear in the ship, standing on the precipice. He could not hear anything. No voices. Just the whistle of wind through the torn ship.

He had seen some of the Agents get to escape pods. But he had no way of knowing if they had survived or not. And what of the A.I.? What of the Director?

There was a feeling that Peter distinctly recalled feeling at several moments in his life--the cold, burrowing sensation of dread, but a strangely numb one. Shock, then. A very human feeling, he had been told.

"Hello?"

He surely could not be the only survivor.

[groundednash]

Aftermath [Escape Pod] (Open)

This wasn't how it was supposed to end. All the death he'd seen, all the blood and explosions and the Covenant ripping through soldiers like wet paper, Nashville had never once thought it'd end like this. 

And yet here they were. The Equinox was in pieces, half of it slaughtered across the ground, escape pods barely making it to the surface intact. His arm had gotten cut somewhere along the way, but that was hardly the first thing on Nashville's mind.

Richmond had been all the way across the ship when the Covenant had rammed them. Nashville had been on the comm with him, talking about... Fuck, what had they been talking about? Nothing. Something stupid. He'd bitched at Nash to clear the channel, Nashville had told him to pull the stick out of his ass, and then...

God, was that really the last thing he'd said to his brother?

No. No, he refused. Richmond was not dead. He was too ornery and stubborn to be dead.

Staggering out of his escape pod, Nashville barely looked at their surroundings. He was far too intense on searching through the few other pods, scanning faces just as battered and stunned as his own.

Rich wasn't there.

Turning at a run, Nashville made his way to the nearby wreckage of the downed Equinox. Fires were still burning, the random bits of metal twisted and hot enough to scald his hands. Nash didn't care. He was digging through scrap metal, shouting Richmond's name, over and over again. Frantic.

He had to be there. He had to be alive.

There wasn't another option.