Chapter Text
“When the impact of that ship first swept across the planet, I couldn’t be bothered to care. Why would I? The odds of anyone even slightly less gritty than me surviving this hellhole of a planet are slim, the odds of them being helpful even slimmer. Heck, the ship looked like some big corporation ship, so odds are any survivors would be more like Paul than…
…
…But then, I thought about it a little. Small thoughts, about all the new resources or developments people must’ve made in the past decade. Thoughts like, ‘What if there’s new weapons for my PRAWN,’ ‘All that titanium certainly wouldn’t hurt,’ or ‘I could probably recover some blueprints for a shiny new cyclops’ were at the forefront of my mind. And, after a few weeks of relative comfort with Preston, I decided enough was enough.
I’ve gathered enough supplies to last me a year, and finally got around to building a Sea Truck. Not as fast as a Seamoth, not as self-sufficient as a Cyclops, but it’ll have to do since I left any blueprints of those behind in the goddamned crater.
I’m making some final preparations, and then I’m going. I’ve prepared enough Preston’s Delight and some old auto feeder I scrapped together, so he won’t starve.
Maida out.”
“Huh.”
Volara, noticing Varien’s remark, turned to face his shelter. Electricity crackled down her spines in question.
“What is it?” she asked.
Varien made a facial expression that the Ampeel recognized as a frown. “An unidentified beacon just came within range of us…”