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Description
Had anyone been close enough to see it, it would have appeared as a shooting star.  And had anyone been able to hear, they would have heard a scream from within.  An eerily human scream, in fact.

The scream wasn't one of fear, really.  More one of unbearable frustration.  The monster within the falling craft was working feverishly at the controls, but clearly without much hope.  Finally, just a few seconds before the impact, it gave up on trying to regain control and instead just threw its arms over its head in a last desperate attempt at survival.  A moment later the small ship disappeared below the evergreen canopy and collided with the Earth's surface, where it left a long scar in the soil and finally came to rest at the base of an ancient redwood.

Amidst the flames, fists could be seen pounding at the cockpit cover.  When it didn't budge, a beam of concentrated energy blasted through the glass-like substance.  While this did result in a viable means of escape, it also caused a sudden influx of the oxygen-rich atmosphere within the vessel, and in an instant a cloud of fire exploded from the opening.  Just as the flames died down again, the whole craft was encased in lightning as the ship's power source short-circuited, frying all electronics within.  The pilot gave a horrendous cry of agony, but the silence that followed was even more bone-chilling than the scream itself.

Seconds passed, becoming minutes, and still nothing moved.  Finally, a long, thin mechanical limb poked out of the hole, gripped the edge of the ship, and pulled the creature out of the wreckage.  Though the biological part of the being appeared dead, the metallic appendage protruding from the dome on its back continued to drag itself further from the crash site, much like a spider with a single remaining leg.  Eventually it shuttered, sparked, and fell limply to the ground.

The scene remained mostly unchanged until late morning.  At some point shortly after dawn a coyote had found the charred creature, sniffed at it briefly, and decided that the green flesh was not something that should be eaten; but other than that, nothing disturbed the site.  The fire eventually died out, unfavored by the winds which could have caused it to catch grip of the forest.  Then, at long last, the pilot showed signs of life.

It was a long time before the creature fully regained consciousness.  At first it only made small movements; the twitch of an antenna, the waver of an eyelid, the curl of a digit or two.  Its breathing was shallow but steady, and eventually it took in a shaking sigh, as a human sometimes does on the verge of waking.  It groaned weakly, pulled its four natural limbs halfway into a fetal position, and then finally partially opened its purple eyes.

Blinking and looking around with confusion, it gazed out at the world without the use of pupils.  In the distance a bird was singing, and the sound brought the creature displeasure.  Slowly, quavering, it got to its feet, revealing that it was a biped.  Its whole body ached horribly.  Several bones were certainly broken, and where the green skin wasn't burned, it was darkened considerably with bruising.  Something else wasn't right.  This place felt wrong.  The creature sniffed the air and studied the foliage briefly, finding it all very strange.  Where was it?  Did it belong here?  What had happened to it?

(her.)

It raised one of its hands to its left brow, finding some kind of electrical port.  Though something was plugged into it, the wire seemed to be ripped away.  What did the port do?  Was it important?  Turning, the creature found the remains of its ship.  It studied the disturbance in the branches and soil and decided that no, it did not belong here.  This was a mistake.  Something bad had happened to it.

(her.)

Her.  Something bad had happened to her.  What was a "her"?  What distinguished her as a "her"?  She didn't know.  None of this made sense.  What was she?  How had she come to be here?  Was she on her own or were there others like her who would come to her aid?

Something told her that she was alone.

Yes, alone.  No one was coming for her.  If she wanted to survive she would have to do it on her own.  But where to start?  The flying machine, perhaps.  Or at least she assumed it flew, based on the fact that it had clearly fallen from the sky.  Yes, the machine drew her.  It felt familiar and comfortable, unlike the rest of this place which just disgusted her.  Something about it… so alien… so… so inferior… yes, inferior, but what did it mean?  What was this place?  Why was she here?

She kicked at the ground in frustration.  She couldn't remember anything.  She was in pain, she was alone, and she didn't even know why.  It upset her.  It made her want to burn the whole forest down.  To rip the very ground apart.  It made her want to destroy.  To cause devastation of an enormous scale.

With a sigh she walked to the ship, the metal spider leg dragging behind her lamely.  Smoke was still rising from the debris in places, and much of the metal was twisted out of shape.  It made her feel loss, as if she had been connected to the craft in some way.  It must have been a personal vehicle.  She wouldn't feel this way about an escape pod.

Escape pod?  She wasn't quite sure what that was.  Laying a hand on the ship, she sighed.  Something about it was incomplete.  Maybe it was just a piece of some craft.  Whatever it was, it seemed she would have to leave it.  She couldn't just stay here forever.  Elsewhere there might be tools to fix it, and if she could fix it she might be able to get back home.  Wherever that was.  It felt vital that she move on, though.  That much was certain.  With a nod she looked down at the metal spider leg hanging from her back.  After a moment of contemplation she got it to raise, rotate, and flex a bit.  That was good.  That meant the pack thing on her back was still at least partly functional.  And she knew the pack was vital.  Without the PAK, she would die.  The PAK was her life.  That PAK was her.  And she was the PAK.

And with that, she remembered something else about herself.

Her name was Tak.

Description
Had anyone been close enough to see it, it would have appeared as a shooting star.  And had anyone been able to hear, they would have heard a scream from within.  An eerily human scream, in fact.

The scream wasn't one of fear, really.  More one of unbearable frustration.  The monster within the falling craft was working feverishly at the controls, but clearly without much hope.  Finally, just a few seconds before the impact, it gave up on trying to regain control and instead just threw its arms over its head in a last desperate attempt at survival.  A moment later the small ship disappeared below the evergreen canopy and collided with the Earth's surface, where it left a long scar in the soil and finally came to rest at the base of an ancient redwood.

Amidst the flames, fists could be seen pounding at the cockpit cover.  When it didn't budge, a beam of concentrated energy blasted through the glass-like substance.  While this did result in a viable means of escape, it also caused a sudden influx of the oxygen-rich atmosphere within the vessel, and in an instant a cloud of fire exploded from the opening.  Just as the flames died down again, the whole craft was encased in lightning as the ship's power source short-circuited, frying all electronics within.  The pilot gave a horrendous cry of agony, but the silence that followed was even more bone-chilling than the scream itself.

Seconds passed, becoming minutes, and still nothing moved.  Finally, a long, thin mechanical limb poked out of the hole, gripped the edge of the ship, and pulled the creature out of the wreckage.  Though the biological part of the being appeared dead, the metallic appendage protruding from the dome on its back continued to drag itself further from the crash site, much like a spider with a single remaining leg.  Eventually it shuttered, sparked, and fell limply to the ground.

The scene remained mostly unchanged until late morning.  At some point shortly after dawn a coyote had found the charred creature, sniffed at it briefly, and decided that the green flesh was not something that should be eaten; but other than that, nothing disturbed the site.  The fire eventually died out, unfavored by the winds which could have caused it to catch grip of the forest.  Then, at long last, the pilot showed signs of life.

It was a long time before the creature fully regained consciousness.  At first it only made small movements; the twitch of an antenna, the waver of an eyelid, the curl of a digit or two.  Its breathing was shallow but steady, and eventually it took in a shaking sigh, as a human sometimes does on the verge of waking.  It groaned weakly, pulled its four natural limbs halfway into a fetal position, and then finally partially opened its purple eyes.

Blinking and looking around with confusion, it gazed out at the world without the use of pupils.  In the distance a bird was singing, and the sound brought the creature displeasure.  Slowly, quavering, it got to its feet, revealing that it was a biped.  Its whole body ached horribly.  Several bones were certainly broken, and where the green skin wasn't burned, it was darkened considerably with bruising.  Something else wasn't right.  This place felt wrong.  The creature sniffed the air and studied the foliage briefly, finding it all very strange.  Where was it?  Did it belong here?  What had happened to it?

(her.)

It raised one of its hands to its left brow, finding some kind of electrical port.  Though something was plugged into it, the wire seemed to be ripped away.  What did the port do?  Was it important?  Turning, the creature found the remains of its ship.  It studied the disturbance in the branches and soil and decided that no, it did not belong here.  This was a mistake.  Something bad had happened to it.

(her.)

Her.  Something bad had happened to her.  What was a "her"?  What distinguished her as a "her"?  She didn't know.  None of this made sense.  What was she?  How had she come to be here?  Was she on her own or were there others like her who would come to her aid?

Something told her that she was alone.

Yes, alone.  No one was coming for her.  If she wanted to survive she would have to do it on her own.  But where to start?  The flying machine, perhaps.  Or at least she assumed it flew, based on the fact that it had clearly fallen from the sky.  Yes, the machine drew her.  It felt familiar and comfortable, unlike the rest of this place which just disgusted her.  Something about it… so alien… so… so inferior… yes, inferior, but what did it mean?  What was this place?  Why was she here?

She kicked at the ground in frustration.  She couldn't remember anything.  She was in pain, she was alone, and she didn't even know why.  It upset her.  It made her want to burn the whole forest down.  To rip the very ground apart.  It made her want to destroy.  To cause devastation of an enormous scale.

With a sigh she walked to the ship, the metal spider leg dragging behind her lamely.  Smoke was still rising from the debris in places, and much of the metal was twisted out of shape.  It made her feel loss, as if she had been connected to the craft in some way.  It must have been a personal vehicle.  She wouldn't feel this way about an escape pod.

Escape pod?  She wasn't quite sure what that was.  Laying a hand on the ship, she sighed.  Something about it was incomplete.  Maybe it was just a piece of some craft.  Whatever it was, it seemed she would have to leave it.  She couldn't just stay here forever.  Elsewhere there might be tools to fix it, and if she could fix it she might be able to get back home.  Wherever that was.  It felt vital that she move on, though.  That much was certain.  With a nod she looked down at the metal spider leg hanging from her back.  After a moment of contemplation she got it to raise, rotate, and flex a bit.  That was good.  That meant the pack thing on her back was still at least partly functional.  And she knew the pack was vital.  Without the PAK, she would die.  The PAK was her life.  That PAK was her.  And she was the PAK.

And with that, she remembered something else about herself.

Her name was Tak.