Writing Prompt

“How did we miss this on the serveys before? It makes no sense how this landed without triggering our scanners.” Looking up at the pile of debris I see nothing familiar to our own tech. Bent metal of a density unlike any we have on Earth, machines that once held a purpose, but are now lumps of burnt material, none of it we could identify. The first report of it came from our scouting team early this morning, saying there was something huge that we haven’t mapped. How could that be? We mapped just last week and the frost buildup on this ship looks old, creeping into the cracks between the facets and expanding the space between the metal plates. We got a team out there as soon as the sun rose, photographs have been taken of the exterior en masse, but no one has gone further than a step inside. No one said why, they just insisted on waiting for me to arrive. I stepped up to the gnash in the metal, looking it up and down, having to take a step back to see the entirety of it. Much of it bent inward from impact, looks to have been from the crash landing, mostly. There! At the very bottom… that doesn’t look like impact damage, more of a chemical burn? Something ate away at the material here, not a lot of it, but I can easily picture the corrosion bubbles chewing small, circular holes. I look back at the field scribe and relay this, they scribble it down quickly in their notebook and look back at me with eager eyes. They wan’t me to go in, they all want me to. I hate being the “fearless” captian. But I am curious myself. Stepping inside, the air is still, frozen, and quiet. My flashlight illuminates the crooked floor in front of my foot, scanning for a clear path. I feel the cold of the ship creep through the soles of my boots as I take another step in. I make it down what once may have been a narrow corridor, now widened and twisted. To my left are flexible tubes, now shredded, once carrying some sort of liquid through the craft, which is now a solid puddle on the ground nearby. The quiet is deadly in here, the only sound my footstep echoing off the walls and back to me. The path ends abruptly at a ladder leading up, ruined, but climbable. I find myself at what I think is the control room, through a small hatch in the corner of the room. I see rows of panels of unmarked buttons and switches, Suprisingly analog to what I expected. Along the walls are what look to be indicators and status displays, not unlike those of a power plant. I see here, symbols, words? A script unknown to me, made of quick and small strokes, a mix of jagged and circular patterns, not written left to right, but seemingly written around a central point. I make a quick sketch, the scribes are going to have a field day with this. A shuffling. A sound independent of my own breathing, echoes through the room. I freeze in place. Could have been the ship settling. A panel shifting. Nothing more. Seconds pass like minutes, but I hear no further noise. I finally force myself to move and look out into the room… Nothing. As I thought. I relax fully now and decide to retreat back to the team. Back down the hatch and through the service tunnel. The light of day shining through, I get a glimpse of the scribe walking back to the entrance. I move up to greet her, climbing up out of the tunnel, resting my hand on the side of the ship. What’s this? My hand feels slick against the metal, I bring my hand back up. A slippery, green liquid now coats my glove. _I don’t remember this being here when I entered. I turn to the scribe, “Did you notice this before?” “Oh, I didn’t! Organic material? A fuel? Oh this is exciting let me get a lab kit!” She runs off down the hill. _ How has this not frozen? I look back inside the slumbering ship. I didn’t see any bodies, did I?

Dear diary, January 15 2056 at 20:05

Today we found a UFO Frozen in time Broken down Parts missing Holes in the wall We were sent to retrieve the weird thing And to investigate it It was starting to get frozen over from the snow But we used a heat source to get it free We don’t know were the creatures Controlling the ship is And we don’t know how long it was standing there It is a strange mystery indeed Something we can’t even fathom for ourselves But soon we will find out the mystery and solve it It looks like though we might steal whatever info On that ship for ourselves I don’t want to though I want to respect privacy But it’s not my choice I think if I find these creatures that were on this ship I will help them get home

The end at 20:32

It took over a month slogging through the ice before we found the artifact. The weeks I had spent piecing together bar stories and folk tales hadn’t been in vain, despite the insistence of naysayers at the Academy. The crashed ship was of an unusual design, not aerodynamic enough for conventional flight (which could explain its current state), but possibly functional as some kind of station or satellite, carried off world by a larger craft. As my team neared the artifact the preliminary measurements were taken. There were only the faintest residuals of heat and radiation, but the material of the craft was proving remarkably unyielding to remote scans of every frequency and method. Drones equipped with more limited equipment were sent in place of scientists, who didn’t dare enter yet without any guarantees of the environment within. Around 42% of the interior was too ruined to be explored, but that which could be mapped out showed neither life signs nor corpses. Once the interior was throughly vetted, more sophisticated equipment was taken inside and samples collected. Metal shavings were placed inside vials, a full 3D map of the ship was constructed (at least as far as the sensors could penetrate), and air samples were collected. Now that a path from the main road to the site was established, the real heavyweight research could begin, and the craft would be steadily taken apart to unlock each and every secret it contained. This job site smells like promotion.

We have been isolated from the outside world for sometime now, reaching our four year anniversary of pure isolation. Well I guess it isn’t purely isolation since there are thirteen of us. Initially there were sixteen of us but Jack and Henry got stuck in an avalanche of snow, brining their ultimate fear of being barried alive to reality. And Bach was taken by the vicious Alpha bear, rest in peace their souls. We follow a daily routine of exploration, testing and physical activity. Each fleeting day that passes we build more and more tolerance to the arctic conditions, training and discipling our bodies. Today on our usual morning exploration we decided to venture out a bit farther, taking a more icy route that we typically avoided due to its dangerous conditions. When I heard Berlin calling out to us to get our attention. Berlin is the most athletic out of the group, which is why he was a quarter mile ahead of us. He takes a daily cold plunge in the nearby lake in order to train his body to deal with the freezing conditions here. We were sent here four years ago by FASA to study these lands and to hopefully discover new species. As we all began running towards Berlin we all halted in our tracks, all of our eyes widened. For a moment there all we heard was the singing from the harsh winds tickling our ears. My eyes first attracted towards the massive steel, disc-like aircraft. It was evidently broken and covered in snow. I was about to walk up to it when my eyes were suddenly pulled to the opposite side of the aircraft. It was a massive ice wall, completely barricading us in. The ship must have not seen the wall, probably traveling at insane speeds. As my boots sink into the snow, hearing nothing but the crunch underneath my feet. I became face to face with the wall. It’s massive build had my head completely tilted back to stare up at its enormous stature. I reached my hand out to feel its icy wetness on my fingertips, when suddenly the wall shook. It wasn’t a physical shake, more like an illusion from the static that reverberated from it. I’m assuming some type of hologram. I then open my palm fully and wafted my hand over it again. Only for it to produce the same result. In this moment I knew that this was why we were here. This was why they sent us down here. For a quick moment I loathed myself for being quoted on quote “lazy” and not venturing out sooner.

Can’t believe this it’s look like something outta of a movie Let’s go and find what in there. By the looks of it seem like it had lost power while it crash landed here if there were aliens they had probably Run off.

Captain Schmidt said that auto pilot knew the course. It “Knew the stars better than man”, but she was wrong. A brick wall on the freeway would be undetected until too late- the same was our fate. She said “Sector Æ6-B9 was fully mapped”, yet a wall remained. An undetected barrier in a clear path. Alpha-Death would be the name of this uncharted world. Cold, barren, waste- this world, regardless of impact survivablity, is incapable of life. Nothing lives nor dies without freezing to death here. I pray, oh prayer, reach the others. Let them know- nothing defeated Alpha-Death. Man nor machine.

The crushing weight of the metal debree that lay across my body, cutting into my chest, suffocated me slowly.

I lay, unable to call out as I watch the rescue team help the last of the survivors, so they thought. I try calling, screaming, any noise that would draw them away from the plane and to me, but nothing comes. The air leaves my lungs with each noiseless scream.

The snow shifts below, sinking me deeper into the cold frozen ground. I try getting my arm or leg loose to wave around, maybe catch someone’s eye, but I’m jammed limb to limb.

I don’t want to accept this fate. Im alive, they have to see me. They can’t just leave me here, not like this.

I look to the side, barely able to turn my head, as bright red wets the snow, spreading fast. I know it’s from me, but I can’t seem to figure out where it’s coming from; every part of my body is numb.

The rescue helicopter fades out of view into the foggy clouds above, the snowmobiles fleeing not far behind. The rumble of their engines fade in and out. I can’t tell if that’s because they’re leaving or because I’m losing my senses.

From the corner of my eye I watch as medics quickly evaluate and examine each person they pull out, then shoving them onto the back of a snowmobile to be transported to better help.

Shouts from the rescuers surround me.

My vision blurs. I’ve been sitting here, pinned, for who knows how long. Time doesn’t make sense, nothing does. I can’t make anything out anymore. I can’t tell if it’s from fog or from my fading sight. I can’t decipher the shouts anymore, until they’re completely gone. Faded with the rest of the world.

Everyone’s gone, but me. They left me, they couldn’t find me.

I struggle once more with the last of my strength before finally succumbing to the elements and the injuries of the crash, hopeless. My sight fades to blackness, all of nature becomes silent, and my thoughts come to an end as I cease to exist…

I can hear the crunch of the snow beneath their feet as they draw nearer. Everyone seems fairly cautious, except for one lad. He seems a bit more optimistic, maybe even oblivious to what he’s stepping into. In another life I would be bound by duty the strike all these men down on sight, for stepping into a structure so revered by my people. But that life passed away long ago. The carcass of this vessel, once a monument to our expansive reign, now serves as a decrepit tomb to the fallen mighty of a bygone age. Their steps hit the solid surface of the inner hull. Sounds of rubber squeaking against the hard floors echo down the hall.

“This must have been some sort of vehicle for aviation. What do you think, Rob?”

“I think you’re right. But what I’m most fascinated by are the carvings on the wall. They’re all raised from the surface. It reminds me of ritual scarification.”

“Perhaps they marked their ships in a in the same manner? To make it sacred?”

I’m impressed. They’re very close to understanding…

The first day after the crash felt like an eternity. I can’t tell if the days are getting longer or shorter. I’ve never had this feeling before, that I can feel the smallest shift in my environment. We are still clearing the snow around the ship and it has been two days since we crashed. You would think a group of highly educated shipmates would be able to get this done efficiently. Luckily we had some food left on the ship and it did not get compromised in the crash. O’Neill is getting short with everyone but I think that is because he feels responsible. The original voyage was intended to help progress us as a species. Now we’re stranded stuck. No comms. We don’t even know where we are. We know we’re cold. We know we’ll be hungry soon. We know there might be something out there predatory towards us. The ship crashed in the best possible way. It landed directly on the communications section. The bunkers, servery and backstock were all safe. We are working on the climbing the ship since it landed at an angle.

I heard them above, searching through the debris. They didn’t know yet that I was down in the guts of ship, pinned beneath the hyperdrive, trying to scream out for help. The casing for the hyperdrive had crushed one of my legs, the hot metal slowly cooking my ruined limb. “He-help, please,” I gasped through my bleeding lips, but I knew they couldn’t hear me yet. Galactic Search and Rescue policy dictates that an external scan be performed before entering any ship not from that planet, and a scan of a ship this size typically took at least six hours. My best hope was that they’d send in a drone to search for life, but I couldn’t depend on that. _Think, Tristan. _I looked around frantically, trying to twist my torso without moving my legs too much, until I found a piece of piping that had broken off in the crash. I tore lengths out of my shirt and used them as gloves to grab the pipe, the hot metal still burning me through the material, and jammed it between the floor and the hyperdrive, using what strength I could muster to try and leverage it off of me. The pain, the pain, my vision went white as I slowly lifted it away from me, my breaths quick and ragged as I freed myself inch by inch. I wasn’t sure which was worse, my crushed leg or my hands cooking against the hot pipe, but at last I lifted it enough to shift myself out from under the rubble. “O-okay,” I spoke aloud, voice shaky with pain. “What’s next?”