The pod hissed open, and the cold, dry gas poured out from the capsule into the dark corridor. A lone figure gracelessly fell out onto the floor; dark skin in a pale jumpsuit. He shakily came to his feet, a drowsy fear consumed his expression. When he was put into suspension, it was aboard a state-of-the-art facility, buzzing with activity and experts, not a stripped bare... whatever this was. The dark metal frame frame exposed like bones; piping and electrical running to and from like blood vessels. It was like he had been swallowed whole by some metal monstrosity while he slumbered.
He looked out a nearby porthole, attempting to get some idea of where he had ended up. Outside, he saw a pale world, probably rather cold; seas of white, broken by only mottled greens, grays, and blacks, and a swath of blue-- a small ocean. He did not recognize the planet, and the light refracting off the atmosphere was too bright to allow viewing most of the stars to use as reference. He turned back to the capsule to examine it. He wiped off the dust from the name plate, which read "W.O. LEON HAKEEM".
"...They spelled my last name wrong..." he whispered out unamused.
Fully certain he had no idea where he was, he picked a direction and began to walk. Only emergency lighting and pale light from the sparse portholes to guide him. He was looking for a terminal, control module, anything that he could use to figure out where he ended up. After some time of moving, he could not even suss out what this stations purpose was; there were no laboratories, machine shops, domiciles, or even bathrooms that he could find. It was certainly possible they were on different levels, but there were no ladder wells or lifts, or that were clearly evident.
On the verge of his dazed frustration turning to confused anger, he finally found something. A small toolroom, with only a cabinet, and terminal. He tried the cabinet, but unfortunately was locked tight mechanically. The terminal, however, was able to be powered on much to his amazement, taking him to a login screen asking for a service I.D. code. Confidently, he entered his in, and was rejected with a loud synth horn noise. He tried again, and was rejected again. An error message appeared: "Multiple login attempts failure! Please contact station administrator for reset."
He tapped his fingers on the keyboard, and stood in contemplation of the idea of walking ever more, just to find an admin terminal that was implied to exist. It was then that the emergency lights turned a bright red with a tremendous clunk; an emergency message appeared on the terminal in front of him: "DEBRIS PROXIMITY ALERT! IMPACT IMMINENT! ALL HANDS BRACE FOR COLLISION!" Leon stared at the screen. "...What?" The station then suddenly rocked, with alarms beginning to blare.
He bolted out of the toolroom, and out of a nearby porthole he spied an emergency launch in rough shape with the word "FOLBAN" on the side of the hull, careening down to the planet. Station debris started to drift out behind. Leon judged from the notable lack of explosive decompression, that either the collision happened on a different level, or that emergency shutters were still functional and triggered. Still, now his priority had changed from finding information, to either finding a way off this station or at the very least finding a pressure-suit. Which ever happened first.
He continued down the way he had been heading, albeit at a much more hurried pace. "You've got to be kidding me..." he hissed; rounding the corner fifteen meters away was a sign that read "LADDER WELL TO CONTROL DECK".
He climbed up the ladder well, muscles still weak from the extended freeze. He'd been a test pilot, and was used to all sorts of hazards and non-sense. But if he had any idea of what he'd get when he signed on for this project, he would have never agreed to participate in extended cryogenic sleep studies. When he emerged, he saw that this level was less skeletal than the one below, but was still stark in most ways; the utilities were covered by solid deck plating.
His head was beginning to pound, he meandered down the corridor as the alarm continued to siren. He kept seeing an unknown insignia; merchant scales upon a shield, and the initials "J.F.T.Z."-- neither symbol or acronym were ones he was familiar with-- Leon figured that they were the owners of the facility. The station rocked again even more violently, ceasing his thoughts on the symbol, and emergency lights came to life on the floor; arrows flashing. Knowing an evacuation notice when he saw one, Leon followed them.
The shaking only increased, metallic groans and shearing joined the cacophony of alarms. This place was rapidly deteriorating. He reached the location of where the lights guided, and was met with a small array of escape pod openings. He fell inside one, and hit launch. Slowly at first, the pod drifted out to clear the station. Leon got a good look at the station; it looked almost derelict, abandoned. The debris field was growing swiftly, and the impacted section was beginning to detach entirely. The jets on the escape pot ignited, and he began his descent planetside. He still didn't know where he was heading, but knew he would soon be there.
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