The pod hit harder than it was supposed to.

One second the heat shields were screaming, the next the whole frame buckled and everything went sideways. He blacked out for a couple of seconds—long enough that when he came to, the cabin was full of smoke and the only light left was the orange glow of something burning behind the rear bulkhead.

He punched the emergency release. The hatch blew outward with a cough of hydraulics and he half-climbed, half-fell into the dirt.

The night air was thick and warm and smelled like wet ash. His armour sealed itself with a soft hiss and ran the usual checks across his visor. Suit was mostly fine. Power was fine. The Luxastra still answered when he called it to his gauntlet. The plasma cutter at his hip gave a low, ready hum.

Behind him the pod settled with a long metallic groan and then simply folded in on itself. Flames pushed up through the cracked plating. Whatever was left of the drive core cooked off in a dull thump. No beacon. No spare parts. No second chance.

He stood there for a moment, watching it burn.

“Of course,” he said under his breath. “Of course this is the planet where the engine decides it’s done.”

Something moved at the edge of the firelight.

They came low and fast—thin bodies, too many joints, mouths that opened the wrong way. The armour tagged them as hostile before he had a name for them. Pishacha, he would learn later. Right now they were just targets.

The first one lunged. He stepped offline and put a clean beam through its chest. It came apart in dark vapour and scraps of bone. Two more closed from the left. The plasma cutter snapped out and took both in one short arc.

He kept moving, kept shooting, kept cutting. The armour took a couple of scrapes that left black streaks across the chest plate but nothing that got through. The whole time he talked—short, flat comments aimed at no one.

“You’re not even trying to flank.”

“That joint’s going to give out if you keep landing like that.”

“Still coming? Fine.”

When the last one dropped, the clearing went quiet except for the fire and the sound of his own breathing inside the helmet. He lowered the rifle and looked at the wreck that used to be his only way off-world.

Stranded.

He tilted his head back and stared at the unfamiliar stars for a few seconds.

Somewhere past the trees something big made a sound that didn’t belong to any animal he knew. The noise rolled across the dark ground and stopped somewhere closer than he liked.

He exhaled once, slow, and started walking.