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His world was a blur as Cool Hand slowly opened his eyes. He tried to move resulting in a series of groans. The pain in his head and chest and back caused the first groan. It also triggered his memory of recent events, which caused the second, louder groan.
As his vision became somewhat clearer, he saw a shape floating in the capsule next to him. Even by the dim light filtering into his blurred field of view, he could see it was Rodriguez.
"Hey, Rodriguez! Wake up, man," he called out. No response came back to him. "Hey, you alright there?" he asked as he pushed on Rodriguez's shoulders. Rodriguez began to spin, and Cool Hand realized that it was only his upper half, that Rodriguez had been severed as the hatch closed.
Scrambling out of shock, Cool Hand jammed his hand against a button on the console. Thrusters engaged, slamming Cool Hand against the far wall with the force of the acceleration. As quick as he could, he reached out and turned them off. The impact made him realize exactly where he was, and that if he wanted to get out of this alive, he'd need everything he could get.
He floated over to the window and looked out. He saw a planet a short distance off. He couldn't see the cruiser anywhere. He knew where he had to go. He engaged the manual control and secured himself as tightly as possible. He aimed the craft as near on to its target as possible, and then cut the thrust to save as much for deceleration as possible.
The escape pods were designed to survive a medium level entry into a planet's atmosphere, and only a medium level entry. Low level meant the planet was too small and likely would not have enough of an atmosphere to support the life of a marine. In those cases, the pod would crash to the planet's surface like a meteor. High level entry meant the planet was too large, and gravitational forces would crush the marine. In those cases, the pod would burn up in the atmosphere. Both deaths would be gruesome, so the pods were designed to release cyanide gas into the chamber before such an event could occur.
Cool Hand, never having had much of a background in astronomy, could only hope that he was approaching a medium level planet. If so, the worst that could happen would be asphyxiation if the planet's atmosphere had no oxygen. But the planet appeared to have vast blue oceans and green patches of land, so he was hopeful.
***
Cleanup was progressing rather slowly back on board the cruiser. For one thing, there weren't many men left on board, and some had to be spared for essential, life-support operations. For another thing, cleaning up the blood of your brothers, sweeping into piles the limbs of your friends, and hoisting into makeshift caskets the recoverable portions of the bodies of your fellow soldiers is never an easy task. The only bright spot, if it could even be called that, was that there were no wounded that needed care, so vicious were the alien's attacks.
Vox led the cleanup efforts. Of his squad, only three and a half were accounted for. Sharpe had been moved from the barracks and into a coffin. Stinger's body was also moved into a coffin. So disfigured by the explosion was it that it likely would have remained unidentified if Johnny and Vox hadn't watched him die.
Johnny had also watched as Cool Hand and Rodriguez were charged by the fat momma which still lay halfway down the hall. They found Rodriguez's legs by the hatch of a now vacant escape pod dock. They could only assume that Cool Hand and Rodriguez's torso were in the pod. For all they knew, the two were probably dead.
***
The planet's atmosphere began to envelope the pod as Cool Hand began the landing procedures. "So far, so good," he thought, alluding to the fact that he was still alive. Outside the pod flames began to shoot past the window as it descended further towards the planet.
The pod quickly began to heat up, and Cool Hand began to sweat. After the cold vacuum of space, this thermal assault was enough to make him sick. He began to feel it deep in his bowels, slowly rising its way up, until it forced and escape through his esophagus and out his mouth. By this time, he had bent over near the floor, and he was starting to see spots in front of his eyes. Outside, the roar of the flames stopped, and a short while later the parachutes opened. This collapsed Cool Hand onto the floor, and there he remained, not knowing if he would reach land or water.
Suddenly the pod stopped. The cabin jolted, and Cool Hand hit his head hard on the side wall, and he knew no more. The pod, meanwhile, began to emit an emergency rescue signal, having come to the planet's surface.
***
Vox was on the bridge, conversing with Captain Armon. "Cleanup is going well, sir," Vox began. "Nearly all of the bodies that can be identified have been identified."
"Good, but what of the unidentifiable?" asked the captain.
"Well, sir, they're mostly just parts of bodies; arms, legs, internal organs. We're fairly certain that almost everyone is there, sir," Vox regretfully asserted.
"And who isn't there?" probed Armon.
"One of the members of my squad, sir. "Numerous eyewitness reports place him inside the escape pod that jettisoned during the combat, sir."
"Well, if he decided to leave in the middle of a firefight, that's his own prerogative. He got what he wanted, and now he'll get what he deserves if he hasn't already," stammered the captain.
"But sir, I hardly think that that was the case in this situation," replied Vox.
At this point, an ensign came in and handed the captain a sheet of paper. "Orders from HQ, sir," he said.
"Thank you," muttered Armon as he began to peruse the sheet. "Well, it seems we'll be heading back to the Yards in six hours," he said, now addressing Vox. "You are to continue with your cleanup operations."
"But sir, my man may still be out there," pleaded Vox.
"But nothing. Now get back to work," ordered the captain.
"Yes, sir," begrudged Vox as he turned and left the bridge. When he returned to the docking bay, one of the soldiers pulled him over to a display panel on one of the walls.
"We're receiving a signal from a nearby planet, sir," he said. "I think it may be the escape pod that got blown in the middle of the battle."
"Very good. I want you to prepare the Sandstorm for launch, and I want it done as quickly as possible," Vox ordered.
"You don't think there's someone alive down there, do you, sir?" questioned the soldier.
"No, son, I know there's someone alive down there."
***
Cool Hand slowly returned to consciousness. In the dim light of the fading day, he could make out another figure on top of him. "Hey, Rodriguez, your head's on my lap," he mumbled out, eliciting no response. "Hey, Rodriguez," he repeated, louder this time. "I said your hea- eah, ehh, ahh!" he burst out upon remembering what the situation was. He scrambled and pushed away from the body. Realizing he was on land, he blew the hatch and crawled out.
Falling to the ground, he looked out and around. The planet's star was setting in the sky, as far as he could tell. The pod had crashed through some trees to the floor of a dense forest. Through a hole in the canopy above, Cool Hand could see the bright pink and orange hues shooting through the wispy clouds of the alien sky.
The ground felt soft and moist to the touch, and was terribly comfortable to sit on. Around the pod were many tall trees that stretched high into the night. There were hardly any leaves, and as the planet's satellite rose into the night, it shone with all the brightness of a full moon.
Lest he be caught off his guard, Cool Hand took his rifle out of the pod. Sitting down on the soft ground, he placed it on his lap and leaned his back against the pod. Slowly, he began to drift into sleep, a sleep he did not want to come, but a sleep that he could not prevent from beginning.
***
"Sir, the Sandstorm is ready to go," informed the soldier.
"Thank you," said Vox as he turned towards the ship.
Johnny had been standing nearby and approached Vox. "Where are you going, sir?" asked Johnny, half knowing the answer.
"It doesn't concern you. Stay here," replied Vox as he continued on his way.
Johnny was not daunted and followed after Vox. "You're going to get Cool Hand, aren't you, sir?" asked Johnny. Vox stopped and looked at Johnny, but said nothing. A few seconds passed. "Permission to speak freely, sir?" asked Johnny.
"Granted," replied Vox.
"Cool Hand is my best friend, sir," begun Johnny. "He's like a brother to me. Even I have my doubts about whether he's alive or not. With all due respect, sir, I need to know if he's dead, not be told." Johnny looked down for a second, and then back at Vox.
Unable to argue, Vox relented. "Alright, let's go; but quickly."
***
The captain was on the bridge surveying the situation. Most of the men on his ship were now dead bodies. Every time he replayed the attack through his mind, all that he could remember was his personal quarters. He hadn't been in the battle. He kept trying to rationalize it. "I couldn't have done anything, really. I haven't handled a machine gun in years," he thought. "By the time I would have gotten there, the situation would already have been under control." Yet no matter how hard he tried, he kept coming back to, "Two guards outside my door, and keep me informed, would ya?" His orders to the ensign had been short, sweet, and absolutely cowardly. "Was that how a captain should act? Or rather, was that how a great captain would act?" The answer in his mind was always "No." Always.
"Sir, we've got a rogue ship," said his comms officer, disrupting his chain of thought.
"What's that, now?" he replied, confused.
"The sandstorm, sir. It's launched and headed for a nearby planet without authorization."
"Well, who's on it?" demanded Armon.
"Vox, sir. And one of his squad guys, too; the last one if I remember correctly. Sir, our orders have us moving out in under an hour. I doubt if the ship will have enough time to make it back."
The captain sighed and lowered his forehead onto his palm.
***
Off in the distance, a loud jolting sound came dancing towards Cool Hand's ears. The noise made him slowly stumble out of sleep. By the dim light he could see nothing, and so began to drift off again.
Suddenly, he heard a loud crash, sounding like a pile of rocks being knocked over. Clutching his rifle, he peered into the distance. He could make out the figure of a blinker, but just barely. Quickly, he dove behind the pod.
Hoping it hadn't seen him, he peered over the edge and aimed his rifle. It was charging towards him now. He knew what he had to do.
"Cool Hand!" called a familiar voice into his ears from the creature, but it was too late. His finger had pulled the trigger. Two bullets had flown, followed by the click! click! click! of an empty magazine.
He remained motionless and stunned for a brief moment. Then, dropping the gun, he darted over to the body.
"H-hey, C-cool Hand. I kn-kn-knew you were ali-live," he said as he started to cough.
Cool Hand bent down and held him in his arms. Looking eye to eye, he said, "Im so sorry, Johnny. I'm so sorry."
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