Andrus woke up, face in the sand, gasping for air. His helmet had been knocked loose and lay in a dune a few meters away. His body layed end at the end of a contrail bored through the landscape by pressure and force. He coughed once, tried to inhale and found only dust instead of oxygen.
Andrus hacked and gasped, spit and sputtered. There was air here, wherever here was. It was just hidden behind all the dust and soot of this alien atmosphere. He looked up and saw the strangest place he'd ever seen.
The desert landscape was dotted with the remains of a hundred different shipwrecks. Hulls of various sizes and origins reached up out of the horizon like skeleton fingers out of a grave. The sky was green and there were intermittent clouds, like a Missouri sky before tornados. Between the desert f...
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