EV UNIT 23615 VISOR LOG

 

LOC: 41.890330, 12.492213

TIME: 16h 32m 47s

TEMP: 5degC

COMMS: ACTIVE

ALERT: NONE

 

“23612, do you copy?”

 

Bzzz… Crrrr-crr-crrrr… Bzzzzz…

 

“Repeat: 23612, do you copy?”

 

Bzzzz—

 

“Copy, 23615. Lots of static today. Where’s your location?”

 

“Ground. At target.”

 

“Incoming. ETA 5 minutes. Sorry, equipment check.”

 

“Hurry. It’s… it’s impressive.”

 

“You already found remains?”

 

“Remains? It’s colossal.”

 

“Evidence of construction?”

 

“Three-story structure. Tall, 50 meters at least. Elliptical, approximately 200 meters long and 150 meters wide. Arched passageways on each level. All stone: volcanic origin, carbonates—”

 

Bzzz… Crrrr…

 

“Wait — did you say stone? Can’t hear you well.”

 

“Yes, stone. We’ll need your tracer to date it. Definitely pre-Conflagration, though.”

 

“And how big did you say it is?”

 

“Huge. You could fit a small base within its footprint. Didn’t see much but scattered rocks on my way here, then this. Hard to believe it’s standing.”

 

“Are you inside?”

 

“Just completed a perimeter scan. Moving to detailed aerial recon.”

 

“Copy that, 23615. I’m missing out on the fun. I’ll be there soon.”

 

“Roger. Over and out.”

 

Bzzz… Crrrr—

 

* * *

 

The planet’s star looms low and large to the west, casting a red-orange glow on the stone archways as I tune the settings of my jetpack thrusters and lift off.

 

Maneuvering above the roofless structure, I hover to a spot atop its center and start an automated telemetry to study its planimetry. Multi-tiered concentric levels, sliced by massive ramparts, descend to an oval area at ground level, its floor collapsed and scarred by the remnants of thick underground walls. It’s a stadium or arena of sorts, not dissimilar from our modern amphitheaters save for its imposing size and the prehistoric nature of the building materials.

 

Bzzz… Crrrr…

 

I enable comms. “23612, is that you?”

 

Bzzz…

 

“23612, do you copy? Aerial scanning completed, can send a visual over—”

 

Beep… Beep… Beep…

 

COMMS: INACTIVE

ALERT: UNABLE TO ESTABLISH COMMS LINK

 

Great. Right when we’re about to rendezvous.

 

I should return outside the building and wait for 23612 there, but I reverse my thrusters and descend into the structure instead. Deflecting to one side, I slow down and settle on the floor of the lower tier. A walkway, lined at regular intervals by tall access hallways, encircles the seating levels sloping down toward the arena and its underground.

 

Semi-darkness meets me as I step into one of the hallways, admiring the vaulted ceilings—

 

Crunch… Crunch…

 

I halt. My boot rests on a small cracking heap of uneven consistency. Closer inspection reveals a myriad of bony fragments of varied dimension, from tiny shards to oblong, smooth sticks. Calcium rich. Vertebrate origin. Incredible state of preservation.

 

Excited by the finding, I try comms for 23612 again.

 

Beep…

 

COMMS: INACTIVE

ALERT: UNABLE TO ESTABLISH COMMS LINK

 

No luck—

 

Beep… Beep… Beep…

 

ALERT: (1) UNABLE TO ESTABLISH COMMS LINK (2) CARBON-BASED LIFE FORM DETECTED

 

I freeze, senses on full alert.

 

Beep… Beep…

 

Click… Clack… Click! Clack!

 

I turn and glance at the shape of a limbed creature scuttling toward me, its irregular contours dark against the setting daylight coming from the hallway entrance. Long, filiform threads flow from a single head, surrounded by foggy wisps.

 

Beep! Beep! Beep!

 

ALERT: WARNING – HOSTILE LIFE FORM – EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY

 

The creature lunges at me. My emergency thrusters rifle me above ground, knocking its outstretched limbs. It falls backward with a screeching sound. I zip through the hallway entrance into the arena and circle around the stadium’s sky space, turning to see the creature emerging from the hallway. It falters, agitating its upper limbs and yowling unintelligible sounds in my direction.

 

Beep…

 

COMMS: ACTIVE - RESTORED

 

Bzzz…

 

“23615… Help…”

 

Bzzz… Crrrr…

 

“23612! Where are you? Don’t—”

 

“Below… Please, help… No! NO—”

 

Beep… Beep… Beep…

 

COMMS: INACTIVE

ALERT: UNABLE TO ESTABLISH COMMS LINK

 

As I steer toward the bottom of the arena, my vision catches movement between the underground walls, where several creatures appear from underneath the lower seating ring and scurry to congregate around a limp, white-gray mass. I recognize 23612’s spacesuit, looking completely out of place among the dark stone walls. The creatures whack at it with rocks and long metallic utensils, shredding it apart in a frenzy before probing through its remnants with their extremities.

 

I descend quickly toward the pit to attempt scattering the attackers, but I’m only a few meters above them when I see a limb being severed off 23612’s trunk. One creature gnaws at it and gorges on the viscous fluid oozing from the wound.

 

Beep! Beep! Beep!

 

ALERT: DANGER – EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY!

 

A roar rises from the mob of creatures when they notice me. Soon, an artillery of rocks flies at me.

 

Thump…

 

Beep! Beep! Beep!

 

Thump… Thump… THUMP!

 

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

 

ALERT: DANGER – UNIT UNDER ATTACK – MULTIPLE LOCATIONS – SEVERE DAMAGE POSS—

 

CRACK!

 

Jagged crack lines snake across my visor.

 

BEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPP—

 

* * *

 

EV UNIT 23615 VISOR LOG – AUTOMATED TERMINATION REPORT

 

FILED: DAY 487, YEAR 2536 P.C.

 

CAUSE OF TERMINATION: ENCOUNTER WITH HOSTILE ALIEN SPECIES

 

LOCATION: THIRD PLANET OF SOL STAR SYSTEM 268,700 AU FROM PROXIMA CENTAURI

 

NOTES: LIMITED INFORMATION COLLECTED ON HOSTILE ALIEN SPECIES LISTED BELOW.

 

• APPEARANCE: APPROXIMATELY 1.5-2 METERS TALL, FOUR LIMBS, SINGLE HEAD, SCATTERED BODILY HAIR.

 

• CHEMICAL COMPOSITION: RICH IN OXYGEN, HYDROGEN, CARBON, NITROGEN, CALCIUM.

 

• CIVILIZATION LEVEL: APPARENTLY SELF-SUSTAINING, POSSIBLY CANNIBALISTIC. TECHNOLOGICAL CAPABILITIES DIFFICULT TO ASSESS, DESPITE EVIDENCE OF LARGE-SCALE PREHISTORIC BUILDINGS. KNOWLEDGE-BASE INDICATES SIMILARITIES WITH “HOMO SAPIENS” SPECIES PREVIOUSLY THOUGHT EXTINCT.