February 9th, 2517
I could barely hold my arm up in the air as we performed the deceleration burn. Seven gs... I felt that I was being crushed by an antique wooden cabinet. As the intense white flame of the Sagan's matter-antimatter engines diminished, there it was. A ball of orange-lit clouds, covered by a faint bluish haze. The planet didn't look special at first glance, but we wouldn't be here if there was nothing under the clouds of this hycean world. Five of us boarded the Petra Shuttle. It was my first time in the shuttle. I looked at the slick, see-through control panel in awe, and the green lights that-
"Li Jian, we are waiting for you to sit down so we can undock."
Well, maybe I got too carried away. I quickly went to my seat and we proceeded to undock from the Sagan. We slowly drifted away from the mother ship, listening to the faint bursts of powerful RCS thrusters. From my window, I watched the 800 meter ship slowly shrink, with the cold loneliness of space filling my view while a colossus turns into a speck of dust. Nearly eight minutes of complete boredom later, a pink glow started to appear. I knew what that meant of course; I didn't skip my astronautics classes in high school. A cloud of pink hydrogen plasma surrounded the shuttle - we were entering the atmosphere.
Visibility dropped to zero. We spent thirty long minutes descending through the clouds, where most of the crew - myself included - were passing the time using their neurats. Then, one of my crewmates, a very tall and scrawny brunette, said in a thick centaurean accent: "Look! I think I can see the watar!". Indeed, we were soon seeing tall waves, and a dark, flat island in the distance. As we approached the runway of the research base I s- BANG ...
The loud explosion left us silently terrified. Then I heard our lead scientist, Emily Schneider, who suddenly burst into laughter. I was really confused, and then she said, barely holding her laughter: "The ship is fine, that was from some far away storm. The atmosphere of this planet can be... quite dramatic. You'll get used to it". We spent five more minutes in the ship as it was slowly pressurized to match the planet's 3 atms of pressure, so that our eardrums wouldn't burst from a sudden pressure increase. The hatch opened, and suddenly, for the first time, the planet felt actually real.
Walking away, I looked behind me, and saw the young, tall woman from earlier. She slowly walked down the boarding stairs, and as she was about to reach the end, she fell to the ground. As I was running back to help her, the woman got up. "Oh I'm alright don't worry. Honestly I hate gravity haha"; that's when I connected the dots. Schneider had mentioned that one of our crewmates, a doctoral student called Amanda Dubois, grew up in microgravity and has difficulty walking. Maybe I would have interacted with her during the two weeks we spent travelling to K2-18b, had I not gotten intimidated by her two meter height, which, now that I think about it, is likely a result of her development in microgravity.
The air had a salty, earthly smell. I started coughing and sneezing not long after stepping outside. This planet is known for having a breathable troposphere, but honestly, the sheer amount of particles suspended in the air makes me doubt that. On the way to the base we walked through a kind of garden containing alien plants, or xenoplants as they call it. I recognized the tallest ones, the over 30 meters tall Peking Trees, the roots of which are integral to the structure of floating islands such as this one. One of the plants had a large, flower-like structure that seemed to orient itself towards the wind. "Why is it doing that?", I asked, hoping anyone would answer. "Doing what?", Captain Abuya Anyango replied. Amanda Dubois immediately saw the plant and understood what I meant. "It's so cool to see it in person!", said Amanda, excitedly; "That's a Greedy Windshade, it feeds off of aeroplankton". To be honest, as an engineer, I am not very knowledgeable in biology or exobotany. I assume the "aeroplankton" she mentioned refers to the small organic particles suspended in the air, similar to the plankton found in bodies of water.
Captain Anyango ushered us toward the main entrance of the base, a squat, circular structure that seemed to grow out of the island's soil. The transition was a welcome relief. The moment the inner door hissed open, the air changed. It was clean, sterile, with the faint hum of life support systems filtering the planet's oppressive, particle-filled atmosphere. My sneezing subsided almost immediately.
The base was larger on the inside than it appeared, a series of interconnected domes with softly lit corridors. It was utilitarian but comfortable. We were shown to our quarters, small but efficiently designed rooms. My window looked out onto the alien landscape, a constant reminder of where we were. I unpacked my gear, setting up my personal terminal and the small vinyl lathe I'd brought from home. The first thing I did was put on an old record, letting the crackle and warmth of the music fill the small space, a shield against the profound alienness outside.
February 16th, 2517
The initial excitement of arriving on K2-18b settled into a routine punctuated by the planet's strange rhythms. The research base, a series of interconnected, low-profile domes, became our world. Its air was filtered, scrubbing out the near-microscopic aeroplankton that left my sinuses in a constant state of rebellion. Inside, the scent was one of recycled oxygen and ozone; outside, it was the smell of alien soil and a sea that stretched to every horizon. The sky was a permanent blanket of orange clouds. I had not yet seen how the planet looked like at night, as the days are 33 times longer than Earth's. Every few hours, a deep, resonating BOOM would shudder through the air - the atmospheric explosions Emily had warned us about. We learned to sleep through them.
A week after our arrival, Amanda's excited chatter became the talk of the base. Her analysis of satellite imagery had revealed a peculiar bioluminescence at the far eastern edge of the island, some twenty kilometers away. It was concentrated in a dense mangrove of Peking Trees, a region untouched by our initial surveys.
"It's not the usual bioluminescent life," she explained during a briefing, her Centaurean accent clipping the words with enthusiasm. She pointed to a spectral analysis on the main screen. "The light signature seems... unique. It appears to be lilac, which we haven't seen befoh. Maybe it's something analogous to some kind of aquatic lichen? We have to get samples."
And so, a mission was planned. Amanda, the passionate exobiologist; Emily, the pragmatic geologist, who wanted to study the island's structural composition at its edge; and me, the generalist engineer, tasked with operating the sample collection drones and ensuring all our gear functioned in the high-pressure, high-humidity environment. Captain Anyango decided to accompany us. "A good leader gets her boots dirty," she'd said, though I suspected she was just as keen as the rest of us to see more of this world beyond the laboratory walls.
We set out in an all-terrain rover, its oversized wheels churning through the damp, springy soil. The journey was surreal. We passed herds of six-limbed Hexottes, their iridescent green hides shimmering even in the dim light. High above, the white, ghostly forms of Great Bellowers soared on unseen currents. I glanced over at Anyango, who had carefully closed the rover's overhead vent and was silently smoothing down the seam of her flight jacket - anything to keep the constant hiss of wind from slicing through the filtered interior. A thin line of tension ran across her forehead; even in the best conditions, she struggled with unexpected noise. She gave me a quick, reassuring nod and adjusted the collar so it fit just.
The mangrove was breathtaking. A thick canopy of dark, blue-green leaves created a perpetual twilight underneath. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of decay and life. The roots of the Peking Trees, massive and gnarled, plunged into the dark water, forming a labyrinthine underwater forest. And there, clinging to the roots just below the surface, was the "lichen". It pulsed with a soft, ethereal purple-ish light, illuminating the water in shifting patterns.
"Wow," Amanda whispered, her face lit by the glow as she knelt at the water's edge, her usual awkwardness on land forgotten. Emily was already taking core samples from the soil, while I prepared to launch a small aquatic drone. That's when the first tremor hit. It wasn't an earthquake, the island was floating after all, but a deep, violent shudder that came from the ocean itself. Then, "BOOM ... BOOM". Two atmospheric explosions, one followed by another. They were loud. Much louder than usual.
"Storm's picking up," Captain Anyango stated, her voice tight with authority. "Faster than forecasted. Pack it up. We're leaving. Now."
But K2-18b had other plans. A wall of wind slammed into us, tearing leaves from the canopy. The sky, if it could be called that, darkened from a dull orange to a bruised purple. Then came the wave. It wasn't a cresting breaker but a monstrous surge, a moving hill of water that rose from the horizon.
We scrambled for higher ground, clinging to the thick trunks of the Peking Trees. The world became a maelstrom of wind and water. I saw our rover lifted and tossed aside like a child's toy. The sound was absolute, a physical pressure that vibrated in my bones.
Then came the sundering. A sound like a thousand giant trees snapping at once. The section of mangrove we were on lurched violently, and a sickening, grinding tear separated us from the main island. I watched in horror as the research base, a pinprick of light in the distance, vanished behind a curtain of torrential rain.
The water hit us. I screamed. Water everywhere.
The saltwater surged over my arm, and the smartband on my wrist sparked, its screen going black. A sharp, tingling jolt ran up to my elbow.
When the chaos finally subsided hours later, the world was unnervingly calm. The four of us were huddled together on a small, floating patch of mangrove, no more than fifteen meters across at its widest point. A few battered Peking Trees were all that remained of the forest. The rest was a tangled mess of roots and soil, a fragile raft in an endless ocean.
My arm throbbed. I tried to activate my band. Nothing. "Anyone's comms working?" I asked, my voice hoarse.
Amanda shook her head, her face pale. Emily checked hers and the Captain's. "Dead. All of them. The saltwater and electrical discharge must have shorted them."
When I looked at Captain Anyango, she was breathing heavily, with her eyes wide open. She started pacing, clearly in extreme discomfort as her feet dipped in and out of the muddy roots, but she didn't stop walking back and forth, a repetitive, almost compulsive motion. I could hear her whispering "I can't- I can't handle this. I can't handle this. I- I can't handle this [...]". She covered her ears as she stopped walking and crouched, shaking, her body rigid with tension. Emily, worried, approached her.
"Captain, are you okay?"
"Captain?"
...
"I... o-okay?", she mumbled while looking downwards, with her hands held close to her face, shaking, her fingers splayed and vibrating slightly. Her breathing was getting more intense, shallow and quick.
"I- this is- this- Am- Am- Amanda"
"Amanda. You-"
"You did-"
"You did this."
"Amanda. You- YOU"
...
"YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS AMANDA."
"YOU KILLED US AMANDA. YOU DID THIS."
"YOU DID THIS AMANDA."
"YOU KILLED US"
"Can you please try to calm do-"
"AMANDA FUCKING KILLED US", she exclaimed while flapping her hands wildly, a rapid, almost spastic motion.
"YOU KILLED US."
"YOU KILLED US AMANDA."
"YOU.. you.."
"you killed us..." [crying] "you..."
...
"you..."
...
She walked to the edge of the raft, and crouched, looking at the water, her body still trembling, the repetitive motion of her fingers picking at the damp roots. Emily tried to talk to her, she didn't respond, lost in the aftermath of the internal storm.
We were adrift. Hundreds of kilometers from a base we couldn't contact, on a tiny, disintegrating piece of an alien world. The initial shock gave way to a cold, creeping dread. We were utterly, terrifyingly alone.
Ten minutes later, Captain Anyango came back to us. Her eyes were still red-rimmed, but the frantic energy was gone, replaced by a profound, almost bone-deep exhaustion.
"amanda"
"I-"
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry. I am really sorry. I- it- it was too much it was too much I lost control and- the- I- everything- everything was just too much. I'm really sorry, you didn't deserve this."
"I- I'm uhh... I uh... Status report. Any... Any injuries?", she asked, still wiping tears from her face. She held a disconnected, almost vacant stare. We were bruised and shaken, but whole. "Resources?" We had what was in our packs: a day's worth of nutrient paste, two water purifiers, a multi-tool, and Amanda's sample containers, now empty.
"Hey, um, are you feeling better?", asked Emily. "...Yes, I'm- I'm really sorry, I failed as a captain I shouldn't have done th-"
"No," Interrupted Emily, "Everyone has limits. And Amanda knows that y-"
"Yeah I know you didn't mean it. Don't worry Cap." Reassured Amanda.
Amanda was about to hug Captain Abuya, when Emily touched her shoulder, "She doesn't like it. Don't worry."
As the dim light of K2-18b's long day began its slow fade, a new presence made itself known. A colossal shape surfaced near our tiny island, silent and immense. A single, meter-wide eye, a perfect black lens in a sea of gray flesh, rose above the water and simply… watched us. A Giant Gray Baleene. It wasn't menacing, just curious. But its sheer scale, the casual way it observed our tiny, hopeless speck of existence, hammered home the truth of our situation. We weren't just lost. We were insignificant.
I looked from the silent, watching eye of the xenocete to the crumbling edges of our raft. The planet that had been a source of scientific wonder was now our potential tomb.
I knew that baleenes were harmless, but I was still trembling. Abuya noticed, and looked at me in the eye - something she generally avoids - and said in a calm, reassuring demeanor: "Hey. We will survive this. We will."
Survival was no longer an abstract concept from history holos. It was our only mission.