The AI and I wrote this Sci Fi together

 

What happened when I wrote a SCI FI Adventure with an AI Droid

 

   

The cargo ship hovering over the dusty landing site blew sand particles into its spacesuit and helmet. He didn't feel the grit when he threw it, but he heard it bounce off his fortified skin. Jon Renard rolled his head forward and marched out of the shuttle bay, his helmet still in place.

"Status, Torres," he mumbled into his phone.

 

"Reading you fine, Captain," Torres sounded in his earpiece. "Sensors are showing eight miles of desert, sir. Nothing living for miles. Caldatrans has landed in the middle of nowhere."

 

"Good," Renard muttered under his breath. He was strapped to his suit with six pieces of equipment. One was a three-foot rifle that displayed terabytes of data on his lenses.

 

The burn marks, cracks and bruises on the spacesuits told Jon they were fresh from combat or wounded, but he can't see any signs. The visor had been placed on the front panel and the visors had been placed over the front panel. Jon doesn't know the names, he doesn't know if the strangers were crammed into the back of a metal box or if they had fallen on the Red Planet. He doesn't know their names or where they were born, only that he knows they are foreigners.

Jon knew it was his job to scan the corpses. He didn't see the blood, but some of the brown must be from staining. He checked the cracks, checked some of the pieces of equipment, and some of the pieces of equipment. One of the lenses on his equipment would be able to detect any fatality, determine some of the cause of death, and see the actual pits of the Red Planet.

In the satellite view, he saw a small circle, which was about 700 meters from the large circle, were the ship was on the Red Planet. In the satellite view, only the shadows of the ship on the Red Planet was seen.

A hose fell into the hold and sucked the dead out of the just-emptied compartment, and it rolled into a car loaded with black, sealed body bags. A dozen warriors hobbled out, trudging through the sand, trudging more grit over each other so that the ubiquitous wind could catch them.

The burn marks, cracks and bruises on the spacesuits told Jon they were fresh from combat or wounded, but he can't see any signs. The visor had been placed on the front panel and the visors had been placed over the front panel. Jon doesn't know the names, he doesn't know if the strangers were crammed into the back of a metal box or if they had fallen on the Red Planet. He doesn't know their names or where they were born, only that he knows they are foreigners.

They even piled up the bodies, which did not help in salvaging the sandblasting of the wind, no matter how short they were. The blown up transport, the man told the veteran, but they still left on the shuttle. It was the only way from this planet, and it was only a few hundred kilometers away, not even a hundred miles.

Renard slung the explosive device over his shoulder and shuffled toward the main camp, and the wind lifted and doused his new uniform with red sand.