It wasn’t good. It really wasn’t good.

The ship was totaled. Completely iced over. Even if the natives hadn’t…bothered…us, we still wouldn’t have been able to fix the ship. Too many died in the crash.

Tabitha hit the reinforced glass of the hull and broke her neck.

We didn’t know what was happening until it was already happening. Scientists, light years from here, will study this. Make claims about gravity distortions and midsized planets and moons. All we knew was we were passing by an ice planet on our way to deliver goods, mostly legal, to Port Friday. Then we were falling, plummeting, right through the atomosphere and into the ground.

Tony was impalied on a steering wheel.

After pulling who and what we could from the wreckage, the natives came. They weren’t advanced enough yet to be recognized by The Council. Didn’t need to be advanced to loot the shiny stuff from the wreck. Didn’t need to be advanced to kill.

Now, we had less than a half year worth of rations. The ship provided some shelter from the wind and the biting cold. Though you could only stand the smell of decomposition for so long.

Nathan wandered off yesterday. He hadn’t come back.

We were mostly legal. Carrying some pot, but we kept our noses clean. Is anyone coming? We were a good crew. Well, we were okay.

No one is coming. It’s been a month.

I think I might wander off next.