When I stepped off our ship and onto Proxima G.2, I was far from prepared.

Training was meant to take three years, but we were running out of time if we wanted to save this ecosystem from destruction. As it is, this place is likely too far gone. We may have to be satisfied with documenting these creatures for scientific posterity.

This planet hosts three species that score high enough on the General Cognition Index to be classed as “intelligent”. I have been tasked with studying the most dangerous of the three— and species PG.2-PC has earned that accolade a hundred times over. The highly competitive and hierarchical society barely provides the benefits of a herd. What they consider “play” includes games that often result in maiming, or even death.

Proxiggs, as they have been nicknamed by researchers, have a plethora of symbiotic relationships, in spite of their aggressive natures. They have tamed a type of large beast that they use for transit. The creatures are faster than any I’ve encountered. Their movement is unnatural and unnerving— they are at once too stiff and too graceful to be real. Their diverse exoskeletons glint in the afternoon sun, each one unique and optimized for its role in the “herd”. When they rush past me their thundering weight shakes through my body, and the wind becomes violent and cruel.

A researcher assured me that they are rarely dangerous or deadly, and that they can teach me how to read the migration patterns to navigate the habitat they share with us.

Alternatively, if a creature’s status is not high enough to warrant a beast of burden, they are transported through their habitat with a large group of others, pressed tightly together inside metal tubes. The tubes move violently, often injuring passengers. Disease spreads quickly during transit, as bacteria flourishes in an environment made humid by living bodies. The smell of these tubes has carved itself into my memory.

Another strange aspect is this species’ mating rituals. It isn’t unusual for a species to decorate its nest or itself with colourful leaves and stones to attract a mate. This creature, however, acts as though it is mating at all times. It uses plants and animal skins to make itself appear larger, and, like every other ritual in this biome, there is a danger if you cannot properly mimic this behaviour. I was nearly discovered and killed because I had improperly used a light blue plant-based decoration.

The air here is thick with carcinogenic elements, and most of the water is undrinkable to both us and species PG.2-PC. Both PG.2-PA and PG.2-PB thrive in the planet’s mineral-heavy water, and yet PG.2-PC claims a wider territory.

Due to our physiological similarities, I am forced to live with the constant threat of dehydration, alongside my subjects.

I do have sympathy for this planet’s occupants. They can be cruel, but they are just as quick to be kind. We share a curiosity about the world, and it is easy to extract information from a species always willing to talk. Though their genetic pool is mid-sized at best, Proxiggs have a remarkable diversity of culture, language, and even habitat building and maintenance.

Perhaps these differences are, in some ways, evidence of this species’ conflict-seeking nature. It is easy to communicate the wrong beliefs and inadvertently provoke a creature to violence. Still, I consider these differences in behaviour to be fascinating and endearing.

Where I am, they call this planet “Earth”. In a way, Earth is everything I dreamed of when I was young and imagined being an inter-galactic explorer. Here life is beautiful and savage and romantic— I am constantly aware of the many dangers around me. When I finish my day, having survived the “cars”, watched a game of “football”, and properly used my “pants”, I am exhilarated.

I am not prepared… but neither are these creatures. Perhaps, one day, I will be able to pull them from the danger and into the light.