The Hunter's Mark

Jo'Tang had been dreaming about his daughter's seventh birthday when the ship threw him out of his bunk. One moment he was watching Lira blow out candles shaped like tiny rockets, and the next he was on the floor of his quarters with his shoulder screaming and the lights overhead flickering between white and a sick emergency red. For a confused second he thought he had simply rolled out of bed, the way he sometimes did after a long shift, and he reached for the edge of the bunk to pull himself back up. Then the deck tilted hard beneath him, and he understood that something had gone badly wrong with the ship.

The alarm was a long, rising wail that he had heard exactly twice before in training simulations and never once during an actual flight. He recognized the structural emergency signal immediately. Somewhere aboard the ship, something had failed badly enough to threaten the integrity of the vessel, and the crew would already be fighting to contain the damage. He grabbed the handhold beside his bunk and hauled himself upright, his bare feet finding little purchase on the shifting deck. Somewhere above him, metal groaned under tremendous strain, a deep, tearing sound that he felt in his teeth more than heard with his ears.

"Report," came a voice over the intercom, flat and controlled in the way that Captain Reyes always sounded when things were at their worst. "Someone give me a damage report."

Static answered her for a moment, and then a man's voice broke through, strained and too fast. "We've lost the port stabilizer, Captain. I'm reading a cascade failure in the primary—" The transmission dissolved into a burst of static before he could finish.

Jo'Tang pulled on the boots he kept beside his bunk, not bothering with the laces, and made his way into the corridor. The ship's lighting had gone fully to emergency red now, and the air carried a burned smell that reminded him of an electrical fire he had once helped put out in a research station on Luna, although this was sharper and stronger. The corridor floor shuddered beneath another violent jolt, and he threw a hand against the bulkhead to keep from falling. Through the metal he could feel an irregular grinding vibration unlike anything he had experienced during the voyage.

He found Keno Masri near the junction to the command compartment, one hand braced against a support strut, blood running from a cut above his eyebrow and into his collar. Keno was the ship's systems engineer, a quiet, methodical man who had spent the last eight months of the voyage patiently explaining the finer points of fusion containment to anyone who would listen. Now his expression was drawn, and he was breathing hard.

"Jo'Tang," he said, relief briefly crossing his face at the sight of another crew member. "We're going down. I don't know how far, I don't know how fast, but we're going down."

"Down where?" Jo'Tang asked, though he already suspected the answer.

Keno gave a short, humorless laugh. "There's a planet under us. That's the good news and the bad news both." He pushed off the strut and started moving toward the command compartment, and Jo'Tang followed, matching his pace as best he could while the deck pitched beneath them like the floor of a ship at sea.

The command compartment, when they reached it, was a chaos of warning lights and shouted instructions. Captain Reyes sat strapped into the pilot's chair, both hands locked on controls that seemed to be answering her less and less with every passing second. Beside her, Dr. Amara Oyelaran worked a secondary console, her fingers moving across readouts that scrolled too fast for Jo'Tang to follow. The viewport ahead of them showed nothing but a churning wall of cloud, lit from within by flashes that might have been lightning or pieces of the hull burning away as the ship descended.

"Strap in, both of you, now," Reyes called without turning around. "We've lost the main engines. I'm trying to bring us down on thrusters alone. Get into the crash seats and stay there."

Jo'Tang dropped into the nearest crash seat, the one usually reserved for the ship's biologist, Devan Okafor, who was nowhere to be seen. He pulled the restraints across his chest and cinched them tight, his hands steadier than he expected, though his heart was hammering hard enough that he could feel it in his throat. Keno took the seat beside him and did the same, his jaw set, his eyes fixed on the instruments visible over Reyes's shoulder.

"Where's Devan?" Jo'Tang asked.

"Engineering," Oyelaran said without looking up from her console. "Helping with the secondary power. They're trying to keep it running a few more minutes."

The ship bucked hard enough to slam Jo'Tang against his restraints, and somewhere below them something tore loose with a sound like a gunshot. The lights failed completely for a heartbeat, plunging the compartment into darkness before the emergency systems caught and the red glow returned, dimmer now than before. Through the viewport the clouds had thinned enough to reveal a landscape far below, a dark tangle of forest broken by ridges of pale stone. They were descending at a speed that made the approaching ground difficult to comprehend.

"Brace," Reyes said, and for the first time her voice cracked, just slightly, just enough that Jo'Tang heard the fear underneath the training. "Brace for impact."

He had time to think of Aria's face, of Kai asking him to bring back a rock from every planet he visited, of Lira's small hand gripping two of his fingers at the launch dock, and then the world came apart.

The initial impact threw him forward against the restraints so hard that he heard something in his own chest crack, a flash of pain that stole his breath entirely. The ship did not simply crash; it tumbled, striking the ground and bouncing, striking again, each impact a fresh assault of noise, tearing metal, and flying debris. He caught a glimpse of Dr. Oyelaran's console tearing free of its mounting. It struck her before she could get clear, and the force drove her sideways against the remains of her station. The sound she made was brief and then lost beneath the next impact. Jo'Tang tried to look toward her, but another violent jolt threw his head against the side of his seat.

Something struck his left leg with tremendous force, a section of collapsing bulkhead or a piece of torn deck plating, he never learned which. The pain was so severe that for a moment it blotted out every other sensation. He heard himself cry out, but there was nothing he could do to protect the leg as the wreckage shifted around him. The ship struck the ground one final time, sliding across stone and earth while metal shrieked and tore apart, and then the terrible movement finally stopped.

For a long moment there was nothing. No voices, no alarms, only a faint red glow somewhere above him and the pain in his leg and chest. Each attempt to draw a full breath brought a sharp ache beneath his ribs. He lay there trying to understand what had happened, listening to the faint creak of damaged metal and the occasional crackle of something electrical. The restraints still held him, though the seat itself had torn partway from its mount and now hung at an angle, tilting him sideways. Smoke drifted past his face, thin and acrid, and somewhere nearby liquid dripped steadily onto the ruined deck.

"Captain," he said, or tried to say. His voice came out as little more than a rasp. He tried again, forcing air through a throat that felt raw. "Reyes. Keno."

No one answered. He turned his head, and the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through his ribs that left him gasping. What he could see of the command compartment in the dim red light was barely recognizable as the place he had occupied minutes earlier. The forward console had caved inward, and the pilot's seat was crushed beneath a section of the hull that had folded down from somewhere above. He could not see Reyes clearly, but the condition of her station left him with little hope that she had survived.

Keno's seat, beside his own, was empty, the restraints hanging loose and torn. Jo'Tang searched the wreckage within his limited view, looking for some sign of the engineer. He could not tell whether Keno had been thrown clear or buried beneath the wreckage.

He spent several minutes gathering himself before making a careful assessment of his injuries. His left leg had been broken badly, the lower portion bent at an angle that made him sick to look at. He could move his toes, although the effort sent pain shooting through his leg. His chest hurt with every breath, and he suspected that at least one rib had been fractured. Blood had dried along one side of his face from a cut somewhere above his hairline. When he reached for the restraint buckle, his hands were shaking badly enough that it took him three attempts to release it.

Freeing himself without putting weight on the injured leg proved difficult. He caught hold of the damaged seat frame and worked his body around until he could support himself against the remains of the console. The broken leg shifted as he moved, and he stopped with his teeth clenched, waiting until he could manage another breath. It took several attempts before he finally lowered himself onto the wrecked deck. Sweat had soaked through his shirt, and his vision narrowed more than once, but he remained conscious. He rested against the console until the dizziness passed, then looked around for a safe way out.

"Keno," he called again, louder this time. "Captain Reyes. Can anyone hear me?"

The only answer was the ship settling around him, damaged metal creaking somewhere deep within its ruined structure. He listened for several minutes, hoping to hear a voice or even the movement of someone trapped beneath the wreckage. Nothing came. The smoke had begun to thin, drawn away by a gap torn open in the hull, and through it he could make out a slice of sky beneath heavy clouds.

He looked once more toward the crushed pilot's station and then toward Keno's empty seat. He wanted to search the rest of the compartment, but he could barely move himself, much less lift the wreckage that lay between him and the others. For now, all he could do was try to survive long enough to find help.

It took Jo'Tang the better part of an hour to drag himself out of the wreckage. He moved in short, painful efforts, using whatever remained of the corridor supports to pull himself forward while keeping his broken leg from catching on the twisted metal. Several times he had to stop and rest, breathing carefully until the dizziness passed. The last few meters were the worst, requiring him to crawl through a narrow opening where part of the hull had split apart. By the time he reached open ground, he was trembling with exhaustion, and it was several minutes before he could bring himself to look back at the ship.

What remained of the vessel lay scattered across a long gouge of churned earth and splintered vegetation stretching toward a line of low hills. Smoke rose from several sections of the wreckage, thin gray columns bending sideways in a wind that smelled of wet soil and an unfamiliar mineral sharpness. The command compartment had broken apart near the forward end, and pieces of the ship were scattered across the clearing. Jo'Tang recognized some of the debris but could scarcely reconcile it with the spacecraft that had carried them safely through eight months of travel.

He called for his crewmates, waiting between attempts for some answer from the wreckage. There was no response. He could see the remains of three crew members among the debris near the broken command compartment, and none showed any sign of life. He wanted to reach them, to search farther along the wreckage for Keno and the others, but each attempt to move brought another wave of pain through his injured leg. Eventually he had to accept that he could do nothing for them in his present condition. The sun was already sinking toward an unfamiliar horizon, and he still had no shelter or reliable means of contacting anyone.

He found a section of hull plating that had torn free and come to rest at an angle against the earth. It provided some protection from the wind, and he dragged himself into its shelter. The effort left him sweating despite the cooling air, but from there he could reach several containers spilled from a damaged storage compartment. He began sorting through them, setting aside anything that might help him survive the night.

The planet around him was unlike anything he had studied in his years of training. Much of the vegetation was a deep, almost black green, with broad leaves that curled inward when his shadow passed over them. He watched one plant react as he reached toward a nearby container, its leaves folding slowly around the thick central stalk. Whether the response was caused by light, movement, or something else, he couldn't tell. The air seemed somewhat thinner than Earth's, though he was breathing comfortably enough when he remained still, and carried a mineral tang that reminded him of rain on hot stone. Somewhere beyond the ruined tree line, an animal called out in a long, descending note unlike anything he had heard before.

Among the supplies he recovered were a partially intact medical kit, several emergency ration packets, a water container, and a portable distress transmitter. The transmitter's casing had been cracked during the crash, and although he tried repeatedly to activate it, the unit showed no sign of power. He checked the battery connection and examined the damaged housing, but there was little he could accomplish without tools or replacement components. He placed it with the other supplies rather than discard it. If he survived the night, he could examine it again in better light.

The medical kit had lost much of its contents, but enough remained for basic treatment. He cleaned the blood from his face and examined the cut above his hairline, relieved that the bleeding had largely stopped. His leg presented a much more difficult problem. The swelling had already begun, and he knew that moving the broken bones unnecessarily could make the injury worse. He used the available splint materials to support the leg as it lay, securing them carefully enough to limit movement without cutting off circulation. Even that small amount of handling brought tears to his eyes and left him fighting nausea. When he finished, he rested with his head against the metal, allowing himself several minutes before attempting anything else.

As darkness approached, Jo'Tang arranged the supplies within reach and pulled a loose insulating panel closer to his position. He could not move the larger pieces of wreckage, but the angled hull plating gave him some protection from the wind, and the panel helped close the opening near his side. It was a poor shelter, with gaps that would admit rain if a storm arrived, but it was the best he could manage. He knew that remaining beside the wreckage carried risks, particularly if damaged power systems or leaking fuel were still present. For the moment, though, moving farther into unknown terrain with a broken leg seemed even more dangerous.

By the time true darkness settled over the crash site, the air had grown noticeably colder. Jo'Tang sat with his back against the metal, his splinted leg stretched out in front of him, and found himself thinking about Keno, Reyes, Oyelaran, and Okafor. Eight months aboard the same spacecraft had made their habits as familiar as those of family. He remembered Keno patiently explaining engineering problems over meals, Reyes checking on the crew after difficult shifts, and the countless small kindnesses that passed almost unnoticed during an ordinary voyage. He would never share another meal with them or hear their voices over the intercom. The realization was harder to bear now that he had nothing left to occupy his hands.

He thought about Aria, too, and the children waiting on Earth. Kai would be expecting another stone for his collection, and Lira would want to know everything about the strange places her father had visited. Aria would be following the expedition's progress as closely as communications allowed. He wondered how long it would be before anyone realized the ship was missing and what they would tell his family when they did. He had no answer, and after a while he forced his attention back to the clearing, where at least there were immediate problems he might still be able to do something about.

The planet's two moons rose during the night, pale and unfamiliar against clouds that never fully cleared. Their light revealed the outlines of the forest beyond the wreckage, dense and restless with sounds he could not identify. He kept the one working flashlight he had salvaged close at hand, though he resisted the temptation to use it. On an unexplored world, he had no way of knowing what might be attracted by a sudden light. His leg ached continuously, and the pain in his ribs made it difficult to find a comfortable position. Sleep came in brief, troubled intervals, broken by discomfort and the occasional unfamiliar call from somewhere beyond the clearing.

He woke sometime before dawn to a stillness that felt wrong. For several seconds he lay motionless, trying to understand what had disturbed him. Then he realized that the animal calls and rustling vegetation that had filled the night were gone. He remembered forests on Earth falling quiet when a large predator passed through, and he listened more carefully, his hand closing around the flashlight beside him.

Something was moving beyond the wreckage, among the black-green trees where the moonlight barely penetrated. He could make out only a shifting darkness, low to the ground and moving with deliberate patience. Whatever it was, it seemed perfectly at home in the forest, and it was drawing closer. Jo'Tang held still, conscious of the broken leg stretched uselessly before him and the open ground between his shelter and the trees. He had no weapon, nowhere to run, and no reason to believe the approaching creature would ignore him.