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A star fell upon the world of Alwyne.

From the furthest reaches of the upper heavens a bright orange streak gradually grew in the sky, like a comet of the outer worlds - but in broad daylight, burning high in the sky. Across the towering mountains of Alwyne it soared. O’er its emerald plains and forests it flew uncaring and unthinking of that which lay below. Across its azure seas and crystal lakes it went, gleaming reflection twinkling in the glassy surface of untainted rivers and streams. And over the cities, towns, and villages of this patch of the world it flew, attracting gasps and muffled swears as onlookers gathered to watch and to marvel at the unusual phenomenon. One man swore, pointing up at it and announcing it was a sign of anger from the gods that the judgement of a local witch was unjust and she ought be set free. In a small fishing village, panic took hold - would more stars fall? Would they be trapped in a pitch black world at night, without the stars to guide and comfort them? Astronomers took note, too, some with telescopes pointing them at the strange object - and staring in disbelief at the makeup of this star. Others simply watched and observed, unable to see in finer detail what was occurring so high up, and so far away.

It hurtled through the air, smoke and flames trailing from it in a trail visible for over two hundred leagues in all directions. The air rumbles slightly beneath it as the falling star burns its way across the sky. A sound like the distant roar of a dragon trickles down to those below, perking up the ears of those who had not seen it before.

All eyes turned towards the star as it split apart, pieces of the star separating from each other as the flames grew brighter still. The distant roaring grew louder still as distinct booms and thumps echoed down. Onlookers held each other tight, wondering what this might mean. Meteors were known - but something this bright visible during the day? The ominous booming noises?

The star continued to fall, nearer and nearer to the ground. Another part of the star broke off, this one wreathed in even more flame, a bright, brilliant white light that shot downward from the shard of the star as it began to slow its descent. The other burning shards raced ahead of the smaller shard that continued to slow further - though it still flew at a breathtaking speed, unlike anything else imaginable.

The star, and its children, dipped below the horizon. And shortly thereafter, a new, greater sound rushed towards them. The ground shook beneath the feet of the onlookers, and then a deafening stillness took hold over the world. [hr]

A throbbing pain awoke Commander Hoshitsune Fumiko. She groaned, blood racing in her ears. Everything hurt. Absolutely everything hurt. Her shoulders screamed at her in pain from where the straps had dug in so tightly it seemed they had almost ripped the limbs from their sockets, or fractured the bone. A million diagnostic readouts flared in her vision. Warnings, error messages, and more. [i][WARNING: CONCUSSION INDICATED, SEVERE HEMATOMA INDICATED IN [ERR: RESPONSE LOOP TERMINATED], SEVERE PHYSICAL TRAUMA FROM HIGH VELOCITY IMPACT INDICA-][/i]

Fumiko shut her eyes, trying to block out the sounds around her. Pain. Her entire world was pain. Why the fuck did everything hurt so much. Why was everything pain?

Her eyes snapped back open. The impact. The crash. The deafening wail of the atmosphere screeching against the outside of the hull. The total blindness as viewing cameras shorted out one by one. The horrific sound of pieces of the ship tearing off in the firestorm that had raged outside. Waking up to see a planet rapidly approaching, initiating high-burn evasive maneuvers only to trap themselves in its gravity well on a collision course with the surface. Nothing. She stared, stared into space a thousand light-years distant, into the infinite expanse beyond.

Slowly, something else forced its way into her consciousness. Words, gentle and calming.

[sub]"Commander, you need to wake up. Commander, please..."[/sub]

Fumiko blinked again, wincing as the pain forced itself back into her consciousness. She looked to her left - and came face to face with the blank, dead stare of her copilot.

She stared. She had seen death, she had seen it far too many times before. But there was something about this that shook her. Messages flashed in her vision again - [i][WARNING: SEVERE SUBDURAL HEMATOMA INDICATED IN FIRST OFFICER TA-][/i]

She reached out, brushing her fingers over his eyes as she whispered a prayer. She would need to find a place to lay him to rest here. Wherever ‘here’ was.

Ah, that was right. She did not know where ‘here’ was. This was not her own world, that much had been obvious from a cursory glance at it during emergency maneuvers. And that meant…

Fumiko screamed, driving her fist into the unpowered control panel in front of her, uncaring about the pain that joined the rest of the pain in response. She didn’t know what else to do. What [i]could[/i] she do? She was… she had violated one of the most fundamental universal constants known, or at least, that’s what it seemed. She was somewhere far, far away, on a planet whose atmosphere might not even be breathable - sure, the scans she’d seen indicated a nitrogen-oxygen composition, as absolutely incredible a coincidence as that was. But what of microorganisms in the air? Poisonous proteins that might block some vital function.

She felt the dead presence of her copilot beside her once more, and instinctively turned away. This was wrong. This was all wrong. A million thoughts raced through her mind, she could feel the swoosh of the blood circulating from the artificial pump in her chest as it coursed through her body. The world closed in around her as she frantically clawed at the quick release, falling facefirst into the control panel as the straps holding her down released her. Down, apparently, was forward.

A hand on her shoulder broke her from her panic, and she looked back, the kindly face of the ship’s spirit looking down at her, semicorporeal feet still planted firmly on the floor in brazen defiance of gravity’s mandate. She looked at him, and for a split second, she allowed herself to relax. She was, at least, not going to die alone. He squeezed her shoulder, and she nodded, prying herself up from the control panel. She looked to her copilot again, then to the crash kit near her chair, reaching for it and pulling herself towards it. A mask, with a portable oxygen supply, her sidearm, sword, spare ammunition, and numerous other useful implements for the stranded pilot.

“The distress beacon is active, commander.” The spirit said, floating behind her, “Also, please do not forget the shrine.” He paused, “It would be rather lonely here.”

Fumiko winced as she pulled her gear on, shaking her head. “Not gonna.” She grunted, “Distress beacon’s useless. Nobody’s gonna hear. Need to check topside, just need to…” she reached an arm out, hauling herself vertically, towards what would ordinarily be the floor, “get to the damned…” she grabbed another handhold, muscling her way up, thanking her lucky stars she’d been compatible with the myofibril implants. “Escape hatch!”

She hauled herself up in a burst of energy, grabbing hold of the ladder that, ordinarily, would lead [i]down[/i]. But, in this case, it also lead to a port airlock. She pulled at the latch, listening as the hiss of hermetic seals filled the air as the airlock vented and began to open, ship’s spirit standing beside her - and then, nothing. The door was stuck. Something was blocking it. She was trapped inside, no way to see what was outside, no way to open the airlock from within.

Fumiko stared, disbelieving. She had survived all of this - to be trapped by a stuck door.