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Silence. Absolute silence surrounded me. No screams, no gunshots, no underground facility full of monsters and radiation. I had sand beneath my feet and stars above my head. After investigating the Onyx facility, I had retreated to the desert with Pyro. The horror of Dr. Jorrit’s research slowly faded. The peace and solitude helped me find my center again. Nevertheless, wounds remained in my soul. Brubacker, Alaska, Pike, Husky, Friedrich—we were all scarred by the experiences. Everyone went their own way to cope with it.

My gaze lost itself in the darkness between the sand dunes. Out there in the untouched wilderness lay my path. A gentle breeze brushed my cheek. A harbinger of the rising sun. The wind grew stronger and I pulled my hood over my head. Then Pyro’s star rose above the horizon. Rocks and sand structures emerged from the darkness and the temperature rose rapidly.

My supplies were running low – time to return to Sunset Mesa.

*

Plants hung from the ceiling in the community center, it smelled of fresh herbs, and the crackling of a fire hung in the air. The difference to Dr. Jorrit’s chamber of horrors couldn’t have been greater. I sat relaxed in an armchair and looked out of the window. There wasn’t much to see, just thousands of grains of sand pelting against the glass.

“The sandstorm is getting stronger. We can’t start work for the time being.”

I looked up. One of the settlers was standing next to me. He had just come in from outside and still had his protective goggles on.

“No problem,” I replied. “I’ll continue tonight. The scrap metal isn’t going anywhere.”

“Indeed it isn’t,” said the settler with a laugh. “Come, let’s drink to the faithful scrap metal.”

We joined a female settler who placed three clay jugs on the counter. The jugs clinked together in the air, some of the contents spilled over the rim, and then the rest flowed down our throats. More jugs followed until it got dark outside and the patter of sand grains on the window stopped. I pushed my jug aside and said,

“I’m going to get to work.”

“OK. We’ll prepare dinner,” replied the settler.

After putting on sturdy protective clothing, I stepped outside with the salvage tool. The night was starry and calm. The mountain of scrap metal at the junkyard stood out dimly against the dark sky. Calmly, I began to work on a large metal plate. The laser penetrated the metal and melted it. First orange, then white, the surface glowed. A few drops of liquid metal fell to the ground, the rest was sucked up by the salvage tool. It was meditative work.

Suddenly, the silence of the night was broken by the engine of an approaching spaceship. My breath caught in my throat. Panicked, I turned off the laser and took cover behind the metal plate. An Asgard flew over the junkyard and disappeared behind a hill. In an instant, it was as bright as day there. Trembling, I peeked out – nothing happened. The Asgard must have turned on its landing lights and landed in the upper part of Sunset Mesa. It was probably just a trader.

I sat down on the ground, rested my head in my hands, and tried to calm my breathing. There they were again, the panic attacks I had been having since my regeneration.

*

The next morning, I strolled through the junkyard. Among the scrap metal stood a strange-looking spaceship. It was tall and narrow, with wings on the left and right that were folded up. I had never seen anything like it. It looked as if someone had taken parts and inspiration from various Drake ships and assembled them without any sense of aesthetics.

Gerald came and stood next to me.

“What is that ugly thing?” I asked him.

“A Drake Clipper. It was recently unveiled at the IAE. This is a pre-production prototype. It’s going to be scrapped.”

“Ah ha,” I exclaimed in surprise.

“There’s more to it than you think. It’s actually a practical ship. It even has an infirmary.”

“Seriously?” I asked in amazement.

“Yes. And a crafting station. But it doesn’t work in the prototype. And the engines make strange noises. It’s just Drake,” Gerald explained with a shrug.

“But it flies?” I pressed.

“Yes. Want to take a trip?”

I grinned at Gerald, who nodded back.

A year ago, I came to Pyro and began a life as a hermit in the desert of the planet Monox. I had left the chaos, corruption, and dysfunctionality of the Stanton system behind me. But then the events with the Frontier Fighters and the Regeneration Crisis caught up with me. Both were over. It was time to retire and get back to my life. A life free of scandals, crises, and obligations. A life of freedom and independence.

After loading my hoverbike into the cargo hold, I plopped into the pilot’s seat. The cockpit was familiar—typical Drake. The engines slowly roared to life—coughing, stuttering—then bellowing loudly. The Clipper took off. Reluctantly, the wings lowered and unfolded to their full size.

Carefully, I pushed the throttle forward. Deafening roars pressed me into my seat. Sunset Mesa quickly grew smaller behind me. The solitude of the desert had me back, I was back in my element.

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