Murphy freezes when his eyes find the pilot somehow preserved in the wreckage. He's pretty sure some unholy horror is about to reveal itself - not the pilot himself, but what must have been done to his body in that crash. Any minute now, that black cloak will slip aside to reveal a mass of gore that Murphy would really rather not have to see.

He looks over his shoulder, in the direction of the settlement, for anyone else who might be close enough to take over this futile rescue mission. But even if a team of medics were scrambling right now, it'd take a precious ten minutes at least before they reach the crash site.

"Why me?" he mutters under his breath as he trudges closer to the decimated ship. Then, feeling like an idiot for even bothering, he barks out, "Are you dead?"