Photophobia

The Crash

When he woke up, he groaned. His head felt like it had split apart, his hip burned in pain. He slowly reached up and released the belts that were holding him in place. At least he was alive. He turned his head towards Bahk; a branch and penetrated the windshield and had pierced him into his right shoulder.

"Captain?" he said in a quiet voice.

The man didn't move. Hux knew he had to bring him into a stable position, in case he had to resuscitate him. He gritted his teeth and got up.

He quickly loosened Bahk's belts and dragged him towards the airlock. After a few attempts he finally managed to open it and dragged him out.

The first thing he noticed was the taste of fresh, unfiltered air: Timber, soil and something unknown. He put Bahk down on the ground and opened the first few buttons of his uniform. Then he pulled the glove off his right hand to feel the pilot's pulse at his neck. He wasn't surprised to discover that the man was dead – the branch had impaled him and the amount of blood indicated that they landed quite some hours ago.

Wisps of his hair hung onto Hux's face and he tried to slick them back and straightened his uniform. He had to think, to plan. He looked up and scanned the vicinity – the rebels had undoubtedly landed somewhere near. It was only a matter of time until they showed up to capture or kill him.

He checked his blaster and headed back into the shuttle. After a few moments he found the backpack with the emergency rations. He checked the comm system, but one glance told him that it was out of commission. Fried by the enemy fire.

Damn it! He had to check it once he had more time. But first he had to establish where the enemy was. He folded his greatcoat and stuffed it into the backpack before he stepped out of the shuttle. He squinted his eyes at the bright light and decided to head north – away from the trails of destruction his shuttle had left.

About an hour later the burning pain in his hip became too painful and he had to stop. He cursed under his breath, it was already dark – he should've checked it before the sun had set. The light was too dim to see anything. And even if he had a flashlight he had to remain hidden.

He spotted a plant with large leafs and decided to crawl under it, not a very dignified move but at least he wouldn't be visible to the enemy at first glance. He didn't believe that they were still searching for him, but he felt utterly exhausted and without stims he would certainly fall asleep at one point. Only minutes later he had fallen into a dreamless sleep.

He woke with a start as his chronometer started to beep.

"Kriff!"

He muted the chronometer. Stupid! Weak! Why hadn't he thought of turning the alarm off? He frantically looked around, listening if somebody was closing in on him. After a couple of minutes his heartbeat slowed down as it became apparent that nobody had heard the alarm.

His head still hurt and his hip wasn't much better. He pulled the emergency canteen from his backpack and took a gulp; it seemed that there were no rations – contrary to regulation. Hux frowned and took another gulp. Well, he wasn't hungry anyway.

He stood up and looked around, he had no idea in which direction he should head. Suddenly he smelled smoke and the rancid smell of burned synthetic fabric. He pulled his blaster from the holster and stared in the direction the smell supposedly was coming.

He had to check the enemy shuttle – either they were dead or he could ambush them. He checked the hidden dagger in his left sleeve and gripped his blaster tighter. He was a good shot but the unknown terrain and the unknown number of opponents were a problem.

Taking a deep breath he crept into towards the smoke.