4th Planet

After years of excursions and drones testing the atmosphere of the 4th planet, we’ve finally been given the green light for population.

We arrived a week ago, after spending a few months in incubation on the ship. We’ve built our camp as instructed and done not much else.

It is quiet here, apart from the wind that blows gently across the red plains. At dusk, which lasts a very long time here, the atmosphere turns into a milky purplish-blue haze. We all, all 16 of us, gather daily to watch this phenomenon. I speak for myself, of course, when I say I could never grow exhausted from the sight.

We’ve held a meeting yesterday and decided it is time to explore the planet as humans, Rovers be damned. Today we pack and tomorrow we head out into the unknown.

It’s been three days since we set out and we’ve finally reached water. Clear, sparkling water that reflects the two suns perfectly on its surface. We’ve run tests on the liquid in our portable lab and found it to be consumable. Upon further discussion, we’ve decided to send majority of the team back to base camp so as to move it here, to the water source.

My mind reels from the possibilities. We can communicate our findings to Earth. They will send our families and materials to build a real settlement. We will send for craftsmen who work in the traditional ways and won’t be deterred by the lack of modern technology.

I smile to myself as I think of a name for this future town: Neumann’s Place.

I have been left here with Thatcher to explore a little further as we wait for the others to return with the camp. We’ve spent the day scouting out useable materials. Plenty of rocks to build stone dwellings.

Now the suns are setting and we’ve settled down for the night. We look across the peaceful water and watch as the tide goes out.

As the water recedes further and further at quite an alarming rate, Thatcher jumps up and squints at the horizon.

“Sir, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“I know, Thatcher, it is quite a sight to behold, isn’t it?”

“No, sir, I mean, yes, sir, but sir, sir, don’t you see them?”

Confused I take another look and sure enough, there are people out there. The departing water reveals them there, stuck in the muck and grime. They stand erect and stock-still.

We are both on our feet now, guns at the ready. I have no idea what a fired shot might effect in this atmosphere, but it is a risk we must take if these are hostiles.

I look through my binoculars to get a closer look at these bodies, which stand there, unmoving in the mist of dusk. I lower them, unbelieving my eyes.

Thatcher asks what the matter is. Slowly I turn to him, lick my dry lips, and say, “It’s the team...o-our team...unbelievable. Here, have a look for yourself.”

“But sir, the team left hours ago, we watched them go.” he says as he looks across at the figures.

“I know, Thatcher.” I say quietly. “Come on, let’s go get them, see what’s going on here.”

The two officers clambered down the small cliff and waded through the thick sludge. They reached the person closest to them and studied him before trying to move him. It was Doorman, the expedition’s doctor. He stood naked and half submerged in the ground, his expression stony, eyes milky and staring, jaw set. They checked his pulse but there was nothing. The man was dead.

They looked across at the others who stood there just the same. Neumann was about to suggest they take them back to land for burial, when a sudden flash of movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

Thatcher, however, was quicker to respond to it and the shot that was fired could be heard for miles and miles.

The three remaining survivors at base camp heard the sound a few minutes later, and half an hour after that, were consumed by a sea of angry fire. Nothing remained of the expedition, nothing, save the rocket from which every half hour a stream of tinny messages were relayed from Earth, demanding an update on the mission.