Two hours ago, I hurtled through this planet's unfamiliar atmosphere, attempting to dodge debris floating high above an endless ocean. My craft shuddered and groaned, somehow seemingly aware it would not survive planetfall. I almost made it. Almost. But what I assumed was another errant chunk of untethered land sprouted a tentacle as I passed, lashing my ship's wing. I knew it was over then. The emergency systems wailed as the ship tumbled so fast I became a vomit vortex. Knowing I didn't have much space left between me and the ocean, you'd think my life would have flashed before my eyes, maybe replay some nice memories before my insides became my outsides. But nope. My traitorous idiot brain imagined all of the different kinds of corpses I could potentially leave behind. How long it would even BE before anyone found me out here. Hell, I madly chuckled at the thought of being some far-future species' dinosaur fossil, propped up in a museum with steel rods and nails. A grinning skeleton in a garish space suit saying "Hey folks! We humans weren't great at flying, but we sure did try!" I was howling with laughter when I made impact, and then — Well, I didn't die. No museum for me yet. The ship's a wreck, but I'm better off than I have any right to be. I'm covered in bruises, scrapes, and my breakfast, but I'll live. The ship bounced off the frothing crimson ocean, crash-landing in a foggy rainforest filled with species I never could have dreamt up. I tried to send out a distress beacon from the still booping-and-beeping cockpit console, but no idea if it'll go through in this shape. Least I can still do what I was sent here to do. I stripped out of my suit, the hot fog hitting my face like a wall. I calibrated my arm the way I was taught so long ago, turning the fleshy knobs of my implants like dials on a Golden Age radio. I laid my hand down upon the living soil, feeling it reach back up and feel me. Then I jammed my fingers in and felt that oh-so-familiar drain as I injected the planet with whatever the hell it is the brains back home came up with. The world closed in around me, every tree screaming, the ground quaking in rebellion. But the protests never last long. Once these things realize we're helping them, they tend to excuse our invasive methods. So the planet will survive. Mission accomplished. Now as far as my own survival, well, hopefully that's a long story I can write down another time. Let me get through the first night and we'll go from there.