DECOY : WARRIOR LOST

          Glancing down at the fuel cell gauge, Roark knew he was going to be in trouble if he didn't hit the atmosphere just right as he barely had enough fuel to engage his thrusters as he would need to.  Running a quick check of his systems, he was hitting the atmosphere just as he finished.  Gripping the flight stick between his legs tightly, he angled his viper to the point he needed to be.

          The viper bucked.  Thumb hovering over the thruster control, he watched his readouts, hitting it when he needed to.  A few tense microns and he was through.  As he began to run his checks again, sweat began to roll down his brow under his helmet.

           For the most part, he had come through with little to no damage.  A couple of fried systems...and as long as the things in the storage area of his viper had come through alright, he had what he would need to fix them.  His fuel situation however was a whole different problem.

          With his fuel cells now dry, he knew he'd be dropping far too quickly...and he was.  Coasting over the landscape below him he searched for a good place to land.  Seeing a small clearing just off to his left, he turned toward it.  He hit the tops of the trees and heard them scraping along his underbelly, jerking his viper.

          Then the ground was just...there.  He hit hard, jerking him in his seat restraints, his head striking the edge of the canopy.  Thank Kobol for his helmet.  He jerked to an abrupt halt, the nose of his viper buried in the growth of bushes and small trees.

          He gave a deep sigh, and relaxed back into his seat, taking a few deep breaths, his eyes slipping closed.  After a few centons, he reached up to pop the canopy, then he removed his helmet.  There was a spot that suddenly began to throb, and touching his fingers to it, they came away red.

          "Lovely," he murmured, "I'm bleeding."  He stood slowly, leaving his cockpit and sliding down the side of his viper, his feet meeting the ground, and he swayed a bit.  Thank Kobol he was still taking the meds that clotted his blood, or he may have been in trouble as he was a bleeder.  Any little cut could turn into a life-threatening problem.

          Steady on his feet, he began to look over his viper, making his way toward the storage locker. pulling branches and bush debris off as he went.  "Well, Captain, you are one lucky pilot, I can tell you that."  Reaching the storage locker finally, he was about to open it when a voice spoke.

          "You okay, mister?"