The following prose is to fill the blanks my OOC absence left, vaguely going through the struggles and thoughts of him being marooned. So obviously, unless Calian told this to your toon, they wouldn't know this.
Day 1
It was quiet in the cockpit, barring the subtle whirring of the various apparatuses keeping not only the machines running, but keeping the cruel, cold void at bay.
Calian looked ahead, his eyes unfocused, blankly staring out of the viewport with the sole exception of glances at gauges or double-checking a button he’d press or a switch he’d use.
It ended suddenly like hitting a wall: an alarm started blaring, jolting Calian awake from his zoned-out state: eyes now wide open, he scrambled to figure out what exactly was wrong – and why. The dashboard of the cockpit was lit up in red, and all of it seemed to care little for what Calian tried. His efforts were all in vain, and he did the next best option: slowly beginning to steer the ship towards the nearest planet. “Better to go out in a blaze of glory than choke to death.”, he thought to himself while the planet slowly approached, his ears ringing from the alarms and face lit up red almost like by a lightsaber.
The approach onto the planet was faster than he expected.
The cockpit heated up as the ship rapidly approached the jungle-covered surface. Calian could hear bits and pieces flying off the ship even before they made contact with the local flora.
The ship rattled through the thick foliage, slamming into the branches that came after. Calian steered the ship as much as he could through the abuse that the branches provided, eventually the ship slamming down violently onto the surface, sliding down the muddy forest floor, until it eventually came to a stop. Calian drew a deep breath, looking both left and right and then touched his face. “Still kickin’”, he sighed out in relief. A few taps, pushes and switches on the dashboard made him realize very little was working.
Making his way out of the ship, he went and inspected the damage: it looked like a ship long abandoned by now, looking at all the mud staining its hull, with the countless branches and leaves stuck to it. Calian rolled up his sleeves and “popped the hood” to inspect the damage as much as he could. He stared at the engine for a moment, only for it to say very little to him. He slammed it shut, looked up at the cool rain, then moved back inside and grabbed his hydrospanner.
Time to fix the comms.
Day 7
His eyes slowly opened, the sight of the cockpit’s ceiling greeting him once more. He sighed and stretched, a sharp pain in his rib as he extended fully. Standing up, he brought his hand up to his neck to rub it with a groan. His attention was then taken to the comms: still no signs of life. It hadn’t magically been restored overnight. She’d surely send someone. Or something.
Calian leaned over the engine. Again. Must have looked at it a dozen times, and it didn’t make any more sense than the first time.
He slammed it shut, and pain shot up his wrist, still sore from the crash. He walked back inside the wreck of a ship to shelter himself from the elements. He pushed the wet hair off his face and looked at the dashboard he had pried open a couple days prior, the fried circuits inside mocking him. The floor was littered with bits and pieces he almost was able to use, but only almost.
He rammed his fist into the rations box only to find it nearing its end; three, four days of slop-bars left. After that…
He’d have to hunt. Or forage. Maybe it was finally time to meet the local flora and fauna. He stepped out of the ship once more, wandering towards a nearby bush. His boot snapped a twig in half, causing immediate movement in the bush: a vaguely rat-like creature scurried out into some more foliage. Calian stared at the bush it disappeared to for a moment, but moved towards his original target. He crouched by it and shuffled the branches and leaves around, spotting some berries. Or fruits. What was the difference? He picked them off the bush and squeezed one between his fingertips, sniffed it and then tasted it.
Sweet. Eugh. But edible.
One more look the way of the rat creature before standing up, throwing another one of the berry-fruits into his mouth before spending the afternoon looking for anything remotely edible in the area.
As daylight slowly came to a stop, he ventured back to his beat-up home, that accursed cockpit that was definitely not intended for sleep.
Could be a while, he pondered.
His fingers tapped at the edge of the near-empty ration box. He wondered if she’d look for him. He peered out the rain-streaked viewport, taking in the sight of the warpath his ship had carved through the trees and forest floor a week prior. Broken trees, branches scattered, deep imprint of the ship’s hull in the mud. She had to, after all they had gone through, right? The thought crept into his mind yet again as it had a few times already. It had only been a week, so there was still time.
Had it really just been a week? Felt longer. What would she say? Stop bitching and fix it?
He listened to the sound of the falling rain against the ship as he sat with these thoughts, slowly drifting away to sleep.