The Planet That Breaths Death

Planet 345B. Andromeda galaxy.

I’ve wanted to be a space voyager since I was a young sapling. I obsessively watched the reports on nearby worlds as they were found by our brave explorers and collected what souvenirs I could from different planets. I waited with bated breath, with the rest of my colony for any sign of life outside our planet. Every time the ships came back with nothing but rock and air samples I felt the disappointment in my veins, followed by a stubborn thought of ‘I’ll be the one to find them’. As soon as I was old enough, I joined the voyagers on their scouting missions. There had to be life out there somewhere, maybe in another galaxy or another dimension. I was determined to find it and make contact.

Three years passed before I got any strong leads. I had left our galaxy behind, parting ways with my crew who were too wary to journey too far from the home base. The constellation map told me I was entering The Milky way, a smaller galaxy with a few hopeful prospects. I hover at the outer border of the unfamiliar beast, pausing to recheck all the ship’s equipment. I had high expectations for this one, a gut feeling that kept me moving forward even after my comrades turned tail and left.

Terrain. I’ve heard whispers of its name, always accompanied by strange stories that sound like wild tales to scare young ones. I’ve never given much credit to them, nothing more than ramblings of old voyagers who find amusement in scaring people away from asking too many questions about their journeys. Earth resides reasonably close to a burning star, surrounded by bigger planets of gas. I can feel my anticipation built as I approach its solar system.

I put the ship on autopilot as I move back into the cabin. I need to contemplate the best way of observation. I could send a probe down to the surface to get atmospheric readings. I’m programming the probe with stealth protocols when the ship is hit by something that sends it careening to the side. I stumble across the console as I try to access the damage and figure out what hit me. I look out the front window and freeze in alarm. The planet, Terrain, seems to be surrounded by a storm of metal bodies. Some of them are sending signals to the surface, ancient communication systems I suppose. The others look like metal carcasses of similar entities. The atmospheric boundary is surrounded by a mass of debris from destroyed ships and probes. I hold in a shiver at the possibilities, hoping the ships were unmanned. Who knows how many voyagers and explorers lost their lives in search of this planet?

I forgo any plans to go to the surface myself. I no longer feel excited by the prospects of finding life even though the evidence is right front of me. I must remain cautious because the native race seems violent. My best chance is to observe from a distance.

Humans as they like to refer to themselves are a strange species. Strange and dangerous. They don’t seem to be bothered by their atmosphere, while most species would run from a planet filled with death gas as fast as they can. They breathe it with no worries, as it slowly burns them from the inside and poisons their blood. They lay in the scorching heat of the sun for leisure, enjoying the rust that grows on their skin. This is a race hellbent on destroying their home and enjoying it. Now I understand why it’s the most well known secret among space voyagers. Must avoid at all costs.