Nexus

You wake to the shriek of tearing metal and the stink of burnt circuitry. Something is wrong — the ship is shaking apart around you. Warning lights strobe red across the cracked viewport, and through it you catch a glimpse of bronze-colored canopy rushing up fast.

Impact. Darkness.

When you come to, warm air is leaking through a jagged gash in the hull. It smells of wet earth and something sharp, metallic — like hot copper. Your ears are ringing. Smoke curls through the cabin. Through the torn hull plating you see sunlight, amber-tinted, and tall grass swaying in a breeze you can feel on your skin.

The ship is dead. You are not.