It has been some time since the Syfyls came back to this planet. And in such time only chaos had reigned over them. As the fledgling government attempted to curtail the ever growing crime rate in the city of slums that is Kravdek, gangs and insurgents ruled. Among this inability of order to take root, those attempting to rid themselves of the dangers of Kravdek take other dangers over it.
Some, partially out of adventurousness and worry for their livelihood and that our their young ones, take up and leave aboard hastily built ionocrafts. These ionocrafts carry hundreds and usually leave in the midst of night. To where they go is notoriously random, some crashing killing their passengers and crew, others becoming the bases of small communities far from Kravdek. Others still, become Aesop tales to be told in manner of warning. This practice of illegal 'trafficking' (as called so by the government) goes largely unchecked as the State focuses on all manner of equally pressing issues.
His name was Itark. He was not the youngest aboard the ionocraft on which he currently flew, others had fewer years in their lives, but he in comparative age was young. Itark was nineteen and alone. His father had gone missing not more than a month ago, and his mother had died only a few days before; itark had no siblings to speak of.
Itark had taken this journey to, like many around him, escape the dangers in Kravdek, even if the journey itself was a danger. He had no other options, no training in profession or artistry, nor source of income or familiar relation.
It had been noon when the craft left the city, and for Itark it had been what felt only an hour or so since departcher, but night had come so he must've been wrong. As Itark was a foreigner to these lands, like all others of his species, so he had no knowledge of where he truly was nor where the ionocraft was headed. But in the distance he could see lights and the faint outlines of a settlement. Such was good news, but the next event was not.
From below, under the deck on which he stood, the sounds of one of the propulsion cylinders exploding. The ionocraft dipped in the air, lurching downward towards the earth. Itark panicked, his situation was strange, his paths to survival slim. Should he jump over the railing to avoid further explosion to come, or wait out on deck and avoid death via gravity.
Neither option mattered, the ionocraft rammed into the ground and flipped. Previous forward momentum propelled Itark into the air, as the wreck of the ionocraft followed behind him. He felt his body impact with the ground and the sound of twisting and burn metal followed as things went dark. He breathed, though now unconscious and injured. The hull of the ionocraft rested above him, concealing his presence from the night moon in the sky.
A tragedy not far from civilization, though only a small village, Stafford, Valcouria had just bore witness to this crash. How the human population of the village would react to the alien presence, now dropped before them, was unknown. Only time would tell.
