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Pilot (man, high-tech silver flight suit) standing near his futuristic space fighter (spaceship, sleek design, ((crashed on ground)), wing broken off, ripped apart, burning, smashed cockpit window) watching two smoke trails of falling space fighters in the distance :: alien world, red rocks, pale yellow sky :: by Jim Burns, Chris Foss, John Wallin Liberto, Peter Elson, Tony Roberts :: wide shot, slight down angle :: hyperrealistic, hyper detailed, photorealistic :: masterpiece, incredible composition, amazing depth, imposing, meticulously composed, high definition
Captain Chris Halver had always imagined surviving his first real engagement would
feel like triumph.
Instead, it felt like standing ankle-deep in red dust, staring at the wreckage of a
perfectly good interceptor that had decided—quite rudely—to stop being airborne.
The ship was still burning. That was bad. The cockpit canopy had shattered inward.
That was worse. One wing lay several yards away, as if it had grown tired of the
whole affair and wandered off on its own. Captain Halver took this in with the calm
professionalism of a man who had been trained, very thoroughly, not to panic until all
useful options had been exhausted.
Overhead, two thin plumes of smoke stitched their way across the pale yellow sky,
marking where his wingmates were falling—fast, uncontrolled, and far beyond the
reach of any rescue that mattered. He watched them disappear behind the rocks
and allowed himself a single, precise thought:
Well. That settles that.
He rolled his shoulders, checked that all his limbs were still answering to his
requests, and glanced down at his scorched silver flight suit. The emergency beacon
blinked once, cheerfully optimistic, then went dark. The radio emitted a hiss that
suggested it had retired from public service.
He sighed.
Somewhere back along the route he’d just come screaming down, a fleet was
maneuvering, orders were being shouted, and the fate of several inhabited systems
was hanging in the balance. Somewhere ahead—judging by the way the terrain rose
and twisted—there were things that had never heard of interstellar law, let alone felt
inclined to respect it.
He looked at the smoking wreck one last time, then at the endless red landscape
stretching away in all directions.
“Gee,” he muttered with forced cheer, “I sure hope I don’t have to walk home.”
The universe, having already answered several much larger questions today,
declined to comment.
