The first thing I do is go back to the wreckage of my pod. The crash scattered my belongings everywhere, but most of the ship's emergency supplies are still intact. I drag out the survival kit, the water purification tablets, a small medical kit, and—most importantly—the food scanner that every pod carries for alien passengers who can't eat the same things as Earthlings.
As I gather supplies, I can't help but smile despite everything. This is exactly what I've always wanted to do. Not the crashing part, obviously, but being the first person to survive on a new planet. This is the job I dreamed of since I was little—the one my dads were so worried about.
They called it the "alien planet survival degree," and they weren't wrong to be scared. People with my degree would be the first to live on newly terraformed planets for a full year, making sure they were actually safe for normal colonists. It was dangerous work. Some of the first survivors never made it through their year. But it was also the most important job in the galaxy—turning hostile worlds into new homes for humanity.
My dads made me promise to get a "basic degree" first, thinking I'd change my mind. So I followed Hannah to her college and studied alien languages instead. But now, standing on this impossible planet with yellow grass and a purple sky, I realize I was meant to be here.
I decide to call this place "Impost"—short for impossible. I can't keep thinking of it as "the impossible planet" forever.
With my supplies sorted, I venture into the forest surrounding the clearing. The red-barked trees tower above me, their purple and yellow leaves rustling in the alien breeze. It feels good to have solid ground under my feet again, even if that ground is covered in bright yellow grass.
I don't go far—maybe a hundred yards from the crash site—but it's enough to start understanding this world. The first thing I notice is the wildlife.
A flash of brilliant neon green catches my eye, and I look up to see a bird unlike anything from Earth. It's about the size of a robin, but its feathers are so bright they almost seem to glow. It lands on a branch and tilts its head at me, curious but not afraid.
As I watch, more birds appear. Some are easier to spot—another neon green one, and one that's bright blue with orange wingtips. But others blend perfectly with the colorful trees. I almost miss a bird with red, yellow, and purple feathers that's perfectly camouflaged against the tree bark and leaves.
The crash probably scared most of the animals away, but these birds seem to be coming back to investigate.
Then I see something that makes me freeze. A small creature scurries across the yellow grass about twenty feet away. It's about the size of a squirrel, but it doesn't have a tail. Instead, it's red and yellow with bright red eyes, and it moves on all fours but can rear up on its hind legs like a prairie dog.
I watch as it stops near a low bush covered in dark purple berries. The creature stands up, sniffs the air, then carefully picks a berry and eats it. It seems to enjoy the taste, because it grabs several more before scampering away.
If that creature can eat those berries, they might be safe for me too. I make a mental note to test them later.
I need to get a better view of my surroundings, so I look for the tallest tree I can find. There's a massive one at the edge of the clearing with red bark so dark it's almost black. The lowest branches are just within reach, and the bark has enough texture to give me good handholds.
Climbing feels natural after all those years practicing in the forests back home. I make my way up branch by branch, the yellow and purple leaves rustling around me. The higher I get, the more I can see of Impost spread out below me.
The forest extends in all directions, a sea of red trees with their colorful canopy. To the east, I can see what looks like a river winding through the landscape—water, which means I won't die of thirst. To the west, the land rises into rolling hills covered in more forest.
But it's what I see to the north that makes my heart race.
On the side of a distant mountain, maybe two days' walk away, there are small blue dots scattered across the slope. I pull out my phone and use the zoom function to get a closer look.
They're huts. Small, dome-shaped structures that look like they're made from clay—the same dark blue clay as the soil here, but lighter, as if it's been mixed with something else. They're definitely artificial, definitely built by intelligent hands.
My phone doesn't have any signal, of course, but it still works as a camera and note-taker. I snap several pictures of the huts and make a voice memo: "Day one on Impost. Found evidence of intelligent life—clay huts on mountainside, approximately two days' travel north."
I climb down from the tree, my mind racing. There are people here. Or at least, there were people here recently enough to build those huts. The question is: are they friendly?
I head back toward the pod, but I make a detour to collect some of those purple berries the squirrel-creature was eating. I also grab a few other things that look like they might be edible—some yellow fruits hanging from a low tree, and some nuts that have fallen near the base of another tree.
On my way back, I spot a fallen branch that's perfect for what I need. It's about six feet long, made from the same red wood as the trees, and one end is naturally pointed. With a little work, I can turn it into a decent spear. If those hut-dwellers come to investigate the crash, I want to be ready to defend myself.
Back at the pod, I set up the food scanner on a flat piece of debris from the crash. The scanner is about the size of a shoebox, with a small opening where you insert food samples and a screen that displays the results.
I start with the purple berries. The scanner hums to life when I insert a small piece, and text appears on the screen: "Select species for nutritional analysis."
I scroll through the options and select "Earthlings." The scanner whirs for a few seconds, then displays the results:
SAFE FOR CONSUMPTION
Protein: 2%
Carbohydrates: 78%
Fats: 1%
Water content: 19%
Notes: High in natural sugars. Similar to Earth berries.
Perfect. The berries are basically alien fruit—safe to eat and full of energy.
I test the yellow fruits next. Also safe, with more water content and different vitamins. The nuts, however, come back with a warning:
UNSAFE FOR EARTHLING CONSUMPTION
Contains alkaloids toxic to human digestive system
Consumption may cause nausea, vomiting, and respiratory distress
I make a note to avoid anything that looks like those nuts.
By the time I finish testing my samples, the sun is getting low in the purple sky. The orange and red clouds are taking on deeper shades, and shadows are growing longer across the yellow grass.
I eat a few of the safe berries and one of the yellow fruits. They're not bad—the berries are sweet and tart, while the yellow fruit tastes something like a cross between a mango and a peach.
As darkness begins to fall, I gather my supplies and head back into the damaged pod. It's not exactly comfortable, but the hull is still intact enough to provide shelter. I arrange some of the scattered cushions to make a decent bed and keep my new spear within easy reach.
Through the cracked windows, I can see strange lights beginning to appear in the darkening forest. Some of them might be bioluminescent plants or animals, while others could be something else entirely.
I'm scared, I have to admit. I'm alone on an alien world with creatures I don't understand and evidence that there's intelligent life nearby. But underneath the fear, there's something else: excitement.
This is exactly what I've always wanted to do. I'm finally living my dream, even if it's not quite how I imagined it would happen.
I close my eyes and listen to the alien sounds of Impost's night—strange bird calls, the rustle of wind through colorful leaves, and sounds I can't identify. Tomorrow, I'll start planning my approach to those huts on the mountain.
Tonight, I'm going to sleep on my first alien world, and despite everything, I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.