Breakfast on the Moon
Your AI beeps at you until your eyelids flutter open and your eyes, slowly, adjust to the screen in front of you, projected inside your helmet.
“I’m awake,” you mumble. “I’m awake. Stop… making… sound,” you add, struggling a little to find the words. The beeping stops but in its absence, the throbbing in your head actually feels worse. You check whether you can move your limbs, which, yes, are all there, and then scan the readouts for a sign of what’s happened to you.
“Armor is at 45%,” you say to yourself. Your AI already knows of course, but you want to figure this out for yourself. “Everything’s intact, though left leg and left forearm show radiating fractures. So, an explosion, close enough to knock me out, far enough away that I didn’t sustain any serious injuries.”
You make yourself stand up to be certain. You ache everywhere, but your bones support your weight and your armor remains airtight.
“Distance from the ship?” you ask.
“Approximately 340 kilometers,” your AI tells you, then adds, “but it’s in pieces.”
“Figures,” you say, mostly to yourself. “Which direction?”
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