Lexus stumbled onto the sand, face flushed crimson, shirt plastered to his back.
"Gah! I'm dead—hah… hah…" He bent over, hands on his knees. "I've never sweated this much in my life!"
"Weakling," Laurel snapped. Her voice cracked with fatigue. "You didn't even carry anything!"
She was shaking too, legs burning, throat dry—but pride kept her spine straight.
"Laurel! You're back!" Shingo rushed toward them, relief and worry tangled in his voice. "How was the trip? Did you find water? You've been gone for almost ten hours!"
"Listen to this, Shingo—Mistral lied!" Lexus barked, frustration spilling over. "We found rivers. A lake too. All of it undrinkable! The scanner says it's basically seawater!" He threw his arms up. "It's blazing out here. I'm going inside before I melt."
"Can I see the numbers?" Shingo asked quickly. "I'll forward them to Mistral and see what he says."
Lazarus lowered herself to the floor of the lifepod, legs folded beneath her in a loose W-shape. Her breaths came short and shallow as she passed the spectrometer over, eyes dulled by exhaustion. No one commented. They all felt the same hollow disappointment gnawing at their chests.
"Let's eat," Laurel muttered. "I'm starving. And thirsty."
She wanted to collapse where she stood—but the lifepod was safer. Cooler. Enclosed. She forced herself inside. Xiaolang and Bob followed without a word.
"Okay…" Lazarus pushed herself up and moved to the storage locker, movements slow and heavy. She handed out the meal packs one by one. The nutrient blocks had been a novelty on the first day—dense, nutty, faintly sweet. Now, three days in, they tasted like cardboard.
"Ugh, I'm getting sick of these blocks," Lexus groaned, tossing the wrapper into the bin. "Next time, let's just eat fruit. We saw plenty near the lake."
He lifted a bottle to his lips and gulped noisily, as if he could drown both his thirst and his boredom at once.
"We don't even know if they're safe," Laurel replied, lips curling into a teasing smirk. "But sure—go ahead and try. More food for the rest of us."
She wouldn't mind letting Lexus act as the guinea pig in this alien world.
"Hmph! I'm not that hungry," Lexus said, turning away. "Only poor people eat food off the ground."
He dropped into his seat with a huff, arms crossed tight across his chest. A faint flush crept up his cheeks. He knew she was right—but pride was a stubborn thing.
To hide his face, he tilted his head toward the sky peeking from the lifepod's window.
Clouds drifted lazily above, seamless and soft. Not like the LCD projections back in the colony—those had been pure white, pixelated, lifeless. These clouds rolled and shifted, uneven and alive, streaked with faint shades of orange and purple along the horizon.
Natural… yet unmistakably alien.
"Shingo," Laurel said after a moment, breaking the quiet, "you said we were gone for more than ten hours. But it's still noon."
"Yeah," Shingo replied, glancing down at his smartbox. "My clock says four p.m. Looks like a full day and night here is about forty eight hours. I have calculated the time it took for the sun to rise and sets."
Laurel nodded slowly.
She'd expected time to behave differently here—but not like this. It wasn't just a few hours offset from USF universal time it was double. everything felt slower. As if time itself flowed more slowly, slipping out of sync with everything they had known back in the colony.
"Hah… I want to take a bath. I haven't even brushed my teeth yet," Lexus whined—the eternal complainer, right on schedule.
"Shut it, Lexus," Xiaolang snapped. His patience had long since burned away. This spoiled brat could feed the black lizards for all I care, he thought bitterly.
"After we solve our water problem," Laurel said, steady but worn. "Mistral, status?"
[Analysis complete. All water sources are safe to drink after boiling, especially samples from upstream. According to USF standards, potable water requires TDS under 500 ppm and CFU under 100 cfu/ml. Unknown microbes detected. Boiling recommended for safety.]
Laurel's eyes widened. "We can drink it?"
[There are risks, so I recomend boiling them first. Boiling will eliminate bacteria, effectively reducing CFU levels to zero. Which would make it safe to drink.]
She let out a breath that was half a laugh. "Finally… some good news."
"Yay! We found water!" Lazarus cried, springing toward Anna. The exhaustion on her face vanished like morning mist. She wrapped her arms around Anna, nearly pulling Laurel into the embrace as well. For the first time in days, it felt like their struggle had meant something.
Laughter filled the cramped lifepod. Laurel sagged with relief, while Xiaolang and Bob exchanged tired—but genuine—smiles.
"Wait." Lexus's voice cut through the moment.
"How are we supposed to boil it?" he demanded. "Did anyone bring an induction stove? Mistral, we do have a stove and a pot, right?."
The laughter died. The hum of the air recycler suddenly felt deafening.
[USF law does not require lifepods to carry induction or electric stoves. This unit is not equipped with one.]
"Then it's useless!" Lexus snapped, his voice cracking. "You gave us hope for nothing! No pot, no stove—how the hell are we supposed to boil anything?!"
The brief joy inside the lifepod evaporated, leaving only the quiet drip of condensation and the familiar weight of thirst pressing down on them once more.
"Ah! We can use fire—just like in one of my dad's old movies!" Anna said suddenly, eyes lighting up. "People used fire to cook things in the ancient times!"
"Fire is forbidden inside any colony or vehicle, Anna," Laurel replied sharply. "It's practically banned everywhere."
She had never seen real fire herself—only in laboratory footage, where a thin blue flame danced above a lithium battery before a robotic arm smothered it instantly.
"…Sorry," Anna murmured, lowering her head. Laurel was right. Fire was banned, any offender would be penalized.
"We're not in a colony," Xiaolang said quietly. "And we're not in USF territory. The law doesn't matter out here."
Laurel hesitated, then let out a slow breath. "You're right… but how do we even start a fire? And what should we use as a fuel? Burn our clothes?"
"Wood is flammable," Lazarus said after a pause. "I read that in an encyclopedia once."
"And the pot?" Lexus sneered, knowing the endeavor was useless from the start. "Any excellent mages here want to float the water over the fire for us?"
"This isn't a game, Lexus," Shingo snapped. "If magic existed, we wouldn't be dying of thirst in the first place."
Silence fell again, heavier than before. The humid air outside pressed against the lifepod walls, thick and oppressive.
"Um… what about the water bottles?" Bob ventured, scratching his head. "We could put them over the fire?"
"No," Laurel said immediately. "PET bottles aren't heat-resistant. They'll melt—or worse, catch fire."
"Ah! Then what about the lifepod?" Shingo said, hope flickering. "It's metal!"
"No," Laurel shot back. "It's our only shelter against monsters. We're not tearing it apart."
"Besides," Lazarus added, rapping her knuckles against the hull, "this isn't metal. It's reinforced carbon polymer nanotube—an insulator, not a conductor."
The dull thunk echoed through the air, betraying how deceptively metallic it looked.
"What about the floor panels?" Xiaolang suggested after a moment. "Or the roof inside?"
Shingo's eyes lit up. "That might work! Those panels are mostly decorative aluminum—thin enough to use without compromising the lifepod!"
For the first time that day, a glimmer of hope crept back onto their exhausted faces.
"Good," Laurel said. "Let's see if the screwdrivers can remove them." She paused, her brow furrowing. "Now… what about the fire? How do we even start one?"
They solved the pot problem. Now they had to discuss about starting a fire. Silence followed—thick and heavy. None of them had ever seen real fire outside a screen. No lighters. No tools. Just wind, sand, and endless alien trees.
"Mistral," Laurel said at last, breaking the quiet. "How do we start a fire?"
[Starting a fire is forbidden under USF law inside colonies and vehicles.]
"Yes, we know," Laurel snapped. "But we're not in a colony anymore."
[Understood. The most efficient method of ignition is a lighter. Welding tools often include ignition mechanisms. An Arc Igniter SX1454 can ignite even in vacuum conditions. The Arc 1432 model includes a built-in lighter. Such devices are commonly used for welding or glassworking.]
Laurel's eye twitched. Mistral's response was perfectly factual—and utterly useless.
"Mistral," she said through gritted teeth, "we are stranded on an alien planet. You told us we need fire to boil water. There is no induction stove here."
Lazarus raised her hand hesitantly. "Mistral… how did ancient people on Earth start fires?" she asked. "I saw a documentary once. They only had stones and wood. Can we do that?"
Mistral was an advanced AI, deployed across half the galaxy. Unfortunately, without the right framing, it could be just as obtuse as any other algorithm. They hadn't been asking the right question.
[Understood.]
[In ancient human history—over 5,000 years ago—fire was commonly started using friction-based methods, such as the fire plough or the bow drill.]
[The fire plough method involves rubbing a hardwood stick—called the plough—along a groove carved into a softer wooden base. Repeated friction scrapes fine wood particles into a small pile, heating them until they smolder. The resulting ember can be transferred to dry leaves, bark, or other tinder for ignition.]
[Alternatively, the bow drill technique uses a bowstring wrapped around a vertical spindle. Moving the bow back and forth spins the spindle against a wooden board, generating heat through friction. A notch in the board collects the hot wood dust until it forms an ember. This method is more efficient, but requires coordination and patience.]
"So… you're saying we can make fire just by rubbing sticks together?" Shingo asked, brow furrowed.
"That's a lie," Lexus said immediately, flicking his hand dismissively. "There's no way that works. Those movies all use CGI fire."
"Lexus, that's rude," Lazarus scolded him.
"I'm just telling the truth." Lexus turned toward Anna. "Your dad's a movie producer, right? Have you ever seen real fire?"
"Um… no," Anna admitted, her voice shrinking. "In my father's movie, The Abandoned Ship, they used CGI fire. Starting a real one was forbidden."
She hesitated, eyes drifting toward the forest beyond the lifepod—the air thick, unmoving, unfamiliar.
I know it's real, she thought. But I've never actually seen it.
"See?" Lexus shrugged, satisfied.
"Let's try it first," Shingo said, folding his arms. "There's no harm in testing."
"Nah. I'm done," Lexus yawned. "I'm tired. I'm going to sleep. You guys can play with sticks by yourselves."
He dropped back onto his seat with a huff. The group let out a collective sigh. Typical.
"I'm exhausted too," Lazarus said softly. "Let's take a short break. It's been a long day."
Her legs trembled as she shifted her weight, knees threatening to buckle under the alien gravity. Every movement felt like dragging sandbags. Laurel nodded beside her, too drained to argue.
"I'll gather some branches first," Xiaolang said. "Bob, come with me—just in case."
Bob nodded and followed, spear in hand.
"I'll join," Shingo added quickly. "It's boring guarding the lifepod all day. While everyone rests, I'll try to light a fire—just like in those survival games."
"I'll come too," Anna said at once, not wanting to be left behind. Not wanting to feel useless again.
Xiaolang slipped back into the woods with Bob close behind. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of moss and wood. Each step cracked against fallen twigs. He spotted something he had missed earlier — a cloud strider's nest, woven from delicate, sun-bleached branches. Perfect kindling.
"Eh… we're taking it?" Anna muttered. "That's cruel. It's their home, right?"
Xiaolang studied it for a moment. "It's abandoned. Look—empty." He reached up carefully and lifted the pan-sized bundle free. The twigs were so dry they crumbled between his fingers.
They gathered more leaves and fallen branches before Xiaolang drew his knife. He shaved one thicker branch flat, shaping it into a crude ploughboard, then trimmed another into a smooth stick for the plough. When he was satisfied, they headed back to the lifepod.
"Let's begin," Shingo said.
He pressed the plough into the groove and started rubbing. Wood squealed against wood, the sound shrill and grating. Anna and Bob crouched close, eyes fixed on the groove, while Xiaolang leaned against the lifepod, scanning the treeline—and the sea beyond.
The board rasped steadily. Dark powder began to collect where the woods met.
After a few minutes, Shingo stopped, bent over and panting. "Hah… this is way more tiring than I thought," he groaned, wiping sweat from his forehead. He began to dooubt Mistral's words.
"Let me try next," Anna said. Determination glinted in her eyes.
Lazarus and Laurel arrived just then, their shadows stretching long in the fading light.
"So?" Lazarus asked, offering a bottle. "Any luck?"
"Nope," Shingo said, dropping onto the sand. Beads of sweat rolled down his face. "Not even a wisp of smoke." He looked up at Anna. "Your turn."
Anna took over, her movements slower, more deliberate. For five long minutes, the rasping grind of wood against wood filled the clearing again. Her arms trembled with the effort, shoulders burning. Yet, no fire nor embers. Only a fine particle of wood, scracthed from the wood was there.
Her hands shook as she leaned back, breath shallow. Doubt crept in despite herself. Her father had always said ancient humans could make fire this way—but standing here, exhausted and empty-handed, it was hard to believe.
"The wood is warm," Lazarus said gently, resting her palm against the ploughboard. The fine dust clinging to it was warm to the touch—a faint sign that the friction was doing something.
"Or maybe it's broken," Lexus scoffed. "Seriously, how are you supposed to make fire from wood? You need a lighter, a lighter. Ifyou can start fire from wood, there is no need for a lighter."
"Can I try?" Bob asked, raising a hand. The group paused, then passed him the plough.
"Go ahead," Laurel said, stepping back to give him space.
Bob crouched low, settling into position. The chatter died away. For a moment, no one spoke. Hope—fragile and tentative—glimmered in their eyes, like a fire that hadn't quite caught.
Then Bob began to move.
Life is beauty, and beauty is art. Fragile, like glass—yet meaning lives within that fragility. The stars above are eternal, yet even they flicker. Strength is not always required; sometimes it is enough to witness the world's quiet grace and live beside it. ~ Anna