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Sunspider · 10-29-2018, 02:55 AM

You stand over the crashed Aircaster, hesitating, taking in the details. The front end of the glider is buried in a mound of steely-grey sand. Light-colored steam billows out from a rear exhaust port. The clasp on the safety belts on top seem to have either come undone, or not been secured when this thing went down. And there, on the far side of the glider from where you stand, you can see a glove-clad arm sprawled limply on the beach.

Part of you wants to get a better view of the prone body. Part of you is worried what you'll find when you do.

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[box=https://solifuge.github.io/elsewhere/chat/dex.png border=32]Please don't be dead please don't be dead please don't be dead...[/box]

...you think, steeling your resolve as you cross the churned-up sand surrounding the glider, toward the figure. It's hard to tell much about them from looks alone as they come into view, but they do look like a pilot. They're covered in a full-body flight suit, complete with boots, gloves, and helmet with mirrored orange goggles. The figure is still, quiet, sprawled uncomfortably, and face down toward the sand. Their arms are folded as though to protect their head, but the way their legs have settled looks... weird.

From where you stand, there's no obvious life-signs. You'll have to get closer to be sure.

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You don't know much about medicine, but you figure that checking to see if the body is warm and breathing would be a good first step. You drop your shoes to free your other hand, and kneel on the beach near the figure, putting thoughts of death out of mind. Adrenaline and tension still rise in your body, as you press a hand to the pilot's upper back. Your pulse drums in your ears as you wait. One heartbeat passes. Then two. Then three. Four. More. No sign of breathing from the body. The flight-suit doesn't feel warm to the touch either. You shift your hand to the middle of the back, and try again. One heartbeat. Two. Three...

A breath. It's slow and shallow, but you felt the pilot's back rise gently as they breathed in. Then, several heartbeats later, you feel their back relax and fall. You let out a tense sigh with them. Had you been holding your breath this whole time? Relief washes over you like a wave, as the fear and adrenaline fades. You've never seen a dead person before, face to face. It's not an experience you ever hope to have.

Medically speaking, you're not sure about the condition of the pilot, so you're not sure if you can safely move them. Usually in shows, comatose people get carried around on stretchers, don't they? There's probably some good reason for that, you think. So, without moving them too much, you look them over one more time. As you do, hanging at the pilot's side you notice a harness and holster, with a sturdy-looking hand axe inside. You're not familiar with the material, but it's glossy and white, not unlike the glider. Clipped to the same belt on the other side, you see... wait, is that what it looks like?

A large flask is secured inside the pilot's other belt-holster. Suddenly reminded of the dryness in your mouth, you disconnect the flask, open the top, and take a careful whiff. Your eyes go wide. It smells like water, and not the nasty sulfur-smelling water from this beach either. It's fresh. You give it a slosh to test the weight. It's not full anymore, but you'd guess there's around half a liter left. That'd still be enough to slake your thirst, and keep you going strong through tomorrow. But...

Your eyes turn to the crashed glider. To the undrinkable seawater, and the poisonous hills behind you. To the metal pillar in the near distance, where Dee Dee is spending their limited battery power chipping away a message. To the low hanging sun, promising scant few hours of daylight before you can't safely search for water, food and shelter. Then, your eyes return to the half-full flask in your dry hands, and to the unconscious pilot.

You don't know how bad their injuries are, and if you did you still wouldn't know how to help them. You could give them the water, but what if they're injured enough that they aren't going to make it until tomorrow? You could really use that water. And with the evening chill coming into the air, that flight suit they're wearing looks like it'd be warm enough on you that shelter wouldn't be a concern. The hand axe and helmet would be really useful tools for your long-term survival too. Moreover... that Aircaster can only fit a single pilot and some cargo, by the look. It might still be in working condition, and if it is you doubt it could handle you, Dee Dee, and a third passenger. And if it's wrecked, you could scrap it and give the power cell inside it to Dee Dee. You might even be able to convert the jet engine into a turbine generator or something. An unconscious person, who may not even survive the night, doesn't need all these things, do they? Shouldn't you be making choices that put your own survival first?

You feel pretty conflicted about this... but you're in a life-or-death situation. You can't afford to spend the whole evening fretting over what's right or wrong. You need to decide what you're going to do with the rest of your evening. So...

[box=#993399 border=2]What do you do?
>[/box]

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