Starfall

Starfall Summary

Starfall is the first arc of WillCo, the aftermath of a crash-landing on Earth, in the spaceship called "Titan". Stranded in the coastal waters of the Southern Doggerlands, the ship's medical officer Eris is forced into the role of acting captain.

As the surviving crew members struggle to maintain order inside the wrecked Titan, tensions mount between them, local Terran forces, and unknown extraterrestrial factions. A damaged AI named ALICE guides Eris through the ship’s systems while external threats close in — including a powerful alien vessel and internal collapse.

Starfall concludes with a Alice reboot giving the designation of “Base Commander,” to Eris

Per-Starfall

WBC Special Report — Live Feed Active

Welcome to this special edition of the WBC Evening Report. We’re following a developing story out of the Southern Doggerlands, where multiple eyewitnesses have reported a sudden burst of meteor-like activity over the open sea. Astrophysicists at the Teradyne Observatory were quick to note that no meteor shower was expected in this region, nor have any solar events been logged that might explain it.

More on this story in just a moment.

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[WBC Special Report — Continued]

We return now to our coverage of the unexpected atmospheric event over the Southern Doggerlands. The footage you’re seeing comes from several amateur sources, showing streaks of light — some described as “blazing fire trails” — descending rapidly over the sea.

Initial speculation ranged from classified aerospace testing to orbital debris. But now, some experts are pushing back against those explanations. Here’s WBC Science Advisor Ron Guron, currently en route to the scene by air.

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[Live Feed — Helicopter Cam: Southern Doggerlands] Ron Guron – WBC Field Analyst & Astrophysicist

“I’m above the southern coast now — middle of nowhere, frankly — and I have to say, what we’re seeing doesn’t behave like standard meteorological debris. Meteorites usually burn up completely before hitting the surface. These… didn’t.”

The camera shakily pans across dark, rippling waves. Something smolders faintly on the horizon.

“We’re picking up signs of impact — debris scattered across a wide radius. There’s metal. Floating.”

A high-pitched alarm cuts through the cabin, followed by a series of pulsing warning tones. The camera jolts.

Ron (shouting over the alarm): “Something’s interfering with our instruments—!”

Pilot (frantic): “Flight controls just went soft! I don’t know what that signal is — some kind of scramble or—dammit! We’re in a feedback loop—no response from nav!”

Co-Pilot (off-mic, yelling): “Throttle dead! Manual override won’t engage!”

Ron (to camera, voice shaky): “We’re losing altitude — attempting to regain — oh God—”

Pilot: “Hold on! HOLD ON! We’re going down — brace — brace—”

The feed stutters. Frames skip. Static floods the screen.

Pilot (final audible shout): “MAYDAY, MAYD—”

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[Signal Lost]

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[Studio — WBC Newsroom]

The camera returns to the anchor desk. The lighting feels too bright, too artificial. The anchor — clearly unprepared for the feed cut — sits frozen for a beat, eyes locked on the monitor just off-camera.

Anchor (quietly): “…we… uh…”

He straightens his posture and clears his throat.

Anchor (resuming tone): “WBC has lost contact with field analyst Ron Guron and his crew. We are working with the Southern Flight Authority and the Coast Guard to determine their status. At this time, we are not speculating on the cause of the incident.”

He glances briefly off-screen, listening to his earpiece.

“We’ll continue to bring you updates as they become available.”

A longer pause follows. His expression falters — just slightly.

“In the meantime… let’s take a look at earlier footage captured by coastal residents, moments before the reported impact. Viewer discretion is advised.”

Starfall I, Attended

[Starfall I - “Attended”] [Cycle 0, Post-Starfall Protocol] [Location Medbay, Lower Decks - Titan Wreck Site, S-3I-4A]

The ship groaned beneath its own weight, wedged into a sheer cliff and half-submerged in an unfamiliar sea. It had fallen from the sky — burning, tearing — and yet, somehow, it floated. At least for now.

The ocean howled outside, waves crashing on the metal hull in a slow, rhythmic pattern. Inside, a different kind of chaos reigned. Water had begun to seep into the lower decks. In the medbay, blue lights pulsed dimly against white bulkheads. Beds overflowed with groaning survivors. Bodies lay. IV bags swayed. Monitors screamed.

One patient lay apart, surrounded by guards — restrained not from danger, but importance. No name, no rank displayed. Just a breathing mask, bruises, and the shallow rise and fall of the chest.

Then a voice broke through the noise.

Alice (calm, artificial) "Captain…"

Alice "Captain..?"

A twitch. Then a breath — ragged, wet.

Eris "…Wh—what? No… I’m not a captain. Alice, I’m…" (He squinted against the light.) "…I’m the medical officer."

A moment of silence. Then the voice replied, unfazed:

Alice "Regrettably, we lost a significant number of lives aboard the Titan during the Starfall Protocol. You are next in line. You have been promoted to acting captain."

Eris didn’t speak at first. His eyes remained fixed on the overhead panel — cracked and half-lit.

Eris (quietly) "…The captain’s dead?"

Alice "Affirmative."

Another breath. Longer this time. Trying to center.

Eris "…How long was I out?" "…How many—" (He coughed hard.) "—how many did we lose?" "…Are there rescue ships on the way?"

The medbay answered only with the steady beeping of monitors. Groans echoed from behind curtains. A cough wracked the silence.

Alice (gently) "Your current condition complicates full briefing, but there is a pressing situation. Shortly after our descent, an unidentified flying object entered our airspace. I neutralized it."

Alice "We now have four local individuals restrained outside. I intercepted portions of their communications and began work on a language model. It is highly likely that an organized response team is en route. Larger. Better equipped."

Alice "My recommendation: we avoid further escalation. A delegate for diplomatic engagement could be chosen. Waiting for your input."

Alice (sharply) "You are not ready for movement. There are others who—"

Eris (strained) "I can’t … rest in dire circumstances. I’ll go out."

He made it halfway upright before his leg gave out beneath him. A guard caught him just in time. His breathing was shallow, teeth clenched through the pain.

Eris (weak grin) "See, Alice? I’m… vertical."

Alice "You have two broken ribs and a fractured femur. Standing is not leadership."

A pause. Her voice softened slightly.

Alice "But presence is. I will authorize a guard to escort you to outer hull. You will remain seated and monitored. Understood?"

Eris gave a slow nod, wincing as he shifted his weight.

Alice "Then suit up. They’re almost here."

Her tone was cold. Not from anger — from calculation. And concern.

With effort, the new captain pulled on a medical exosuit — not the full combat model, but a reinforced frame designed to stabilize broken limbs and regulate internal trauma. It hissed faintly as the pressure seals locked into place around his ribs and leg. The inner lining clung to him like wet cloth, drawing sharp breaths through clenched teeth.

Two guards flanked him. One keyed open the medbay hatch. The other offered his arm — Eris accepted without pride, knowing he wouldn’t make it more than three steps alone. They stepped into a corridor that looked more like a scar than a hallway. The route was jagged and uneven — scorched panels hanging by half-melted bolts, overhead lights flickering. The scent of coolant, ozone, and blood in the air. A distant pulse echoed from belowdecks — not urgent, but constant. They passed a collapsed drone bay. A technician sat slumped against the wall nearby, bandaged and silent, staring through Eris like he was a ghost.

Eris tried not to look down. The exosuit compensated for the limp, but every step still reverberated through the fracture in his leg. The painkillers dulled the sharpness — not the weight. The guards said nothing. Their eyes stayed forward. At the far end of the corridor, a pressure door waited, its access light blinking amber. Beyond it, the open air. They stepped out onto the fractured hull of the Titan. For the first time, they saw the world they’d crashed into. Waves crashed violently below. Seafoam burst against twisted steel. Above them, the sun sank slowly behind the horizon — casting gold across the wreckage.

It was beautiful.

Eris stood tall.

The first diplomatic contact between WillCo and this world was seconds away.

And the Titan braced for another kind of impact.