Damnable suns! The heat's unbearable, and I have no hope of rescue. I don't even know where I am. So how could they know? I could be hundreds of light years from our last reported position. I'll surly be dead long before any of our ships can reach me. That's if they even know where I am.
And damn that cosmic string, we knew they could existed. But you can't see them … you can't detect them. So how can you avoid them? It's only a theory of Einstein's, right? Judging from what's left of the ship, we struck it behind the control module right in front of the crew's quarters. Our vertical control jets had malfunctioned, causing the ship to slip through space vertically. Even though there's no "up" and "down" in space, it made the ship hell to navigate. The rest of the crew was in the rear trying to fix the problem. It sliced the ship in two, and I'm only guessing, but I think somehow the control module was caught in the flow. Taking me with it!
I'm beginning to hate the rest of the crew, too! As if it was their fault they died. It must be the heat! Wherever I am, it has two suns. There's only one other place I've ever been this hot. Back when I was a kid we went to California and had to cross that desert there. Oh, what was its name? My mind's so foggy, I can't think straight! But anyway, it was the worst heat I'd ever felt. Till now!
I found water! On this God forsaken planet. I found a small pool of water! It's been three days and I couldn't hold out much longer!
Now all I need is food, it would be my luck if I were not to die a quick death from lack of fluids, but rather the slow, lingering death of starvation.
There seems to be nothing on this planet but sand and rocks. No real plants, or animals to speak of. Occasionally, I see small forms race across the sands, but my vision's so blurry I can't make out what they are … let alone catch them. For now, I'll drink.
I feel a little better now, my fluid levels replenished. Food is now my concern. I've been able to find some plants to eat, but they're bitter and I can't seem to keep them down. DAMN THOSE TWO SUNS! They mock me. They make me dizzy. There is no shade here. The night is my only shelter, and then I feel as if I'll freeze to death. I'm beginning to think death would be better now than later. I am alone, and God only knows on what planet! I know that death is unavoidable, so why didn't I die in the crash? I wouldn't have even known it. I was unconscious. I have no idea for how long.
DAMN THOSE DESIGNERS! If they hadn't modified the ship after the STS-37 disaster, I would never have survived the crash. They made it so the crew would survive a full re-entry with no landing jets or parachutes.
But their thoughtfulness, has been my curse! I'll last only long enough to regret being born.
WHAT WAS THAT? There on the horizon, a flash, like the rays of those damn suns, reflecting off metal. There it is again! One last drink of water, and I'll start walking toward the flashes. Maybe I am not alone … maybe there is shelter from the heat! I must find out!
*
The sound of a helicopter's blades slowed. The craft settled into the sands of Death Valley, California. The two searchers from the Death Valley Search and Rescue Squad jumped from the side door, and rushed to the fallen figure laying in the noon day sun.
It was too late.
The astronaut's flesh was baked pale from two days in the desert heat. Any body fluids had long since dried. They had seen this far too many times. But they still felt for a pulse, even though they both knew it would not be there.
"Poor bastard!" said the medical officer.
The other crew member looked behind them, at the sign in the distance. The sign that told travelers on the highway that ran through the east end of Death valley that, "You are just 100 yards from the last of civilization for the next twenty miles. So stop at Woodie's Mini Mart!"
"If he'd just been able to make it another hundred yards," said the other search and rescue crew member. He then noticed the pair of eyeglasses that lay beside the body. He picked them up from the sand and held them to his eyes. He quickly pulled them away.
"Man, they're so badly cracked, you see two of everything!"
He turned to the medical officer and asked, "What was his name?"
The medical officer simply pointed to the name tag that was on the fallen astronaut's flysuit. The name "Aaron" was brightly embossed on pocket.