All of those sensations forced Max Evans to desperately clamp his hands over his ears and squeeze his eyes closed as tightly as he could. Agonized, he pulled his knees up to his chin. Although he could see, could feel, could hear, he sensed something was drastically wrong inside of his body. His head was starting to become light and he had the sense of the world slipping away from him. Within a few moments, the problem registered - he needed to breathe. On this planet breathing was necessary.

What should have been a normal bodily reflex suddenly required thought. Max struggled to remember what it meant to breath, to inhale, which group of muscles performed that task. With a sickening cough of extraterrestrial phlegm, Max drew in his first breath in a very long time. The sudden intake of oxygen burnt his nostrils and set his lungs on fire. Tears welled up in his eyes from the pain and his heart jerked crazily in his chest. He removed one hand from his ear and touched the skin over the pounding organ; he wasn't sure which was worse - the pain in his lungs or the pain in his heart now that it was being fed oxygen again.

An apparent eternity passed before his heart slowed and the burning in his lungs became a dull sting. He felt exhausted, every muscle spent from his journey. When he dared open his eyes, he squinted into the clear blue sky just in time to see the worm hole that had unceremoniously spit him on the ground close completely and disappear.