The uploaded mind piloting the probe was letting the automated systems mostly work by themselves, and only really bothered paying attention once scans showed civilisation was present. Civilisation was cool to find, but until it got the detailed scans done there really wasn't very much info to go on, not enough to make it change its primary focus and stop it from working its way through the media archives.

And then everything started BREAKING. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT IS HAPPENING. It stops simulating itself a vr body and drops the vr environment it was using to watch stuff in because it needs all the compute available, and moves all its spare clock cycles to speeding up subjective time for itself. Now the mind can watch everything go wrong in slow motion as systems fail and explode. Subjective hours of panic during the few actual seconds of catastrophic failure. The increased clock speed gives it the time it needs to eject the reactor in time and watch it blow up in the probes face. 

Fuck, it’s crashing now. Does it want to be near where the people will likely be? Probably, maybe. Even with time to think about it they are not sure if they should crash somewhere super remote or somewhere with access to the primitive peoples. This is not something you get trained for. Usually when a probe gets killed it’s killed in deep space from some freak super fast meteoroid or it gets shot down by an unfriendly space faring polity, not crash landing with a pre space flight first contact situation. Fuck it, go to the shore, most civilisation is by the coast right? That was true of humans at least.

If it needs to it can probably catch the attention of passing fishing vessels if this civilisation has any. Coast it is. And filtering sea water for rare elements sounds like a plan IF any of the self repair systems survive the crash. (Or if it survives at all, but thoughts like that aren’t helpful right now.)

Goodbye thrust, it was nice having you. Now it can’t change directions.

It panics a little about having no more freedom of movement and possibly crashing so hard it dies or is damaged beyond recovery and then slowly dying, until it shuts off its emulation of its hormonal system. Emulated adrenaline is not helpful right now.

If it had clock cycles to spare emulating a body it would be crossing its fingers as it hits the atmosphere. The probe is really not built for atmospheric entry. Parts get ripped off, melted, the solar panels are just gone, heat damage to internals is becoming an issue. Without the stress hormones being emulated it is not panicking too hard about this, but it knows as bad as the damage the atmosphere is doing to its body is, the crash will do so much worse.

Crashing takes a while when perception is sped up like this… but it can’t afford slow down its subjective time experience too much, what if something goes wrong that needs the increased reaction times. Subjective hours of muted horror go by watching itself burn up and the ground getting ever closer.

It is almost anticlimactic when it finally hits the ground.

Taurio gazed up at the stars, measuring angles with an outstretched hand. The Great Moon was dark, but the Lesser Moon's half-circle gave him an anchor-point for navigation. They were far out to sea, out of sight of the coast, but the crew trusted Taurio to guide them. After observing the sky for another minute, Taurio carved two gouges into the wooden slate he used to make a record of their location.

Suddenly and silently, the sky lit up. Brilliant ribbons slashed across the sky, luminescent coils of green, fringed with reds and pinks. It was majestic, and Taurio gaped in wonder and in fear. The few crewmen who were awake rushed to his side.

"What is it? What is it?" They trusted Taurio to answer, but he only shook his head. "I have never seen this, nor heard tell of it. An omen, perhaps, though I have no idea what it means."

The crew was nervous and continued to stare transfixed at the sky. Taurio looked around, trying to remember every snatch of lore he knew, but no answers came to him.

Then the sky lit up brighter, a red streak like an enormous comet hanging in the sky. It crossed to the north, towards the shore. Oaths and hurried prayers rippled though the sailors.

Taurio looked at the tiny haul of fish, the product of only one day of fishing. Then he looked to the sky and swallowed. "It must be an omen, and not a good one. Rouse your fellows, and hoist the sails. We're turning around and going home."

"Wake up, Osi! Wake up!" The words roused Cattuvvir, the steward and master of the Aku people. Rising to his feet, he dressed as swiftly as he could and pulled the sword off the wall. Nobody would dare to wake him unless something of dreadful importance was happening. He opened his door and strode into his manor hall. "What is it?"

The junior armsman was more nervous than usual. "Something is wrong with the sky, Akusi. As I was on watch it began to burn with some sort of spirit-fire, and then some of the fire flew across the sky and struck the earth."

Akusi marched outside, where only bare flickers of green light remained. Whatever had happened, it ended quickly. The other armsman with the night shift was still standing at the door. Akusi frowned. He had heard stories from northern traders about green lights which crossed the sky from time to time, but it had never happened anywhere this far south. And a fireball hitting the ground? Only lightning could do that, and the sky was clear and silent.

He could not show the uncertainty he felt: at this moment his people looked to him for certainty, not for honesty. Akusi gave an order. "Send four riders out to investigate where the fire landed. I will sacrifice three sheep at sunrise as an appeasement-offering, and then a raven, for knowledge on what has transpired."

A roar of terrible thunder woke Corasia from her sleep. Window-shutters had blown open, and a glance outside showed no rain. But the animals were silent. The animals were never silent, not out here. Something was very wrong. Springing from her bed, she rushed to her family. Her children -- both those of her body and her nieces and nephews -- were awake. Everyone was safe... for now.

"What happened, Mama?" asked one of the younger ones. "I don't know" responded Corasia grimly. "But we're going to find out. Atesos, Buturo, take your knives and slings and follow me. Vocara, you're in charge. Barricade the door, hide the little ones under the beds and give everyone else a weapon. Only let us back in if we say your name." Corasia didn't know why she was so sure there was danger outside, but she knew to trust her instincts.

Her children obeyed, and for herself she took a spear, as well as a sling of her own. She set out with her two eldest sons, the three staying alert and watching each others' backs. It didn't take long before they found the burning, smoking crater next to the animals' watering hole. At a whispered order, Buturo hid behind a bush, ready with his sling. Corasia and Atesos approached the smouldering crater cautiously, weapons pointed forward.