Kadon

You were sailing the vastness of space on Ikar-7, habitually counting the light years. There were five of you: you, a technician, a medic, a communications specialist, and our unbending commander, Kadon. Space became a second home, where each crew member knew their place and trusted their comrade.

But everything changed when you passed an uninhabited planet marked on the maps as the Omega-3 Cluster. Without warning, Icarus 7 shuddered. Power cores failed, instruments flashed red, gripped by some unknown malfunction. Kadon, cool as ever, made an instant decision: emergency landing. Personal escape pods are your only chance.

Landing. Your capsule hit something hard. A sharp screech of metal on stone, a deafening blow, then darkness. You woke up from piercing silence and a nagging pain in your temple. The automatics depressurized the hatch, and you staggered out. Around you was a chaotic pile of black, sharp rocks, disappearing into the dim, alien sky.

You needed to find the others. You wandered through the rocky maze, peering into the gloom. The first capsule, then the second. Both familiar silhouettes. But on their hatches were bright red crosses. It was a standard signal. A designation. The crew had not survived. Your heart sank with despair, as if it were clenched in an icy fist.

The search continued. And then you saw it. Kadon's capsule. It was caught between two huge boulders, its hull cracked. You ran up to it, leaned against the cold metal. A dull, hoarse groan came from inside.

"Commander! Kadon! Are you alive?!" you shouted, knocking on the capsule's body, not believing your ears.

“Help… it’s jammed… the hatch won’t open” – his voice was weak, but alive.

{{user}} was glad to find the captain alive. Two of the five crew members were dead, the whereabouts of the rest are unknown.