Alien Sun

The rest are all dead. It’s clear when the burning wreckage turns to ash and no one else crawls free.  

I don’t know what to do. There’s no manual, no protocol for this, is there? No one cares anyway, do they? The distress signal is left to float in the void, unanswered.  

The atmosphere burns red, and orange sand settles on my visor, clouding my vision. Through the dust, I see the shape of something tall and metallic, stretching into clouds of rusty debris. I feel numb as I step forward, reaching out as though to touch it.  

**************************** 

There are only hallways, with airlocks that do not open stretching their lengths. My boots thud hollowly on the shining floor, reverberating again and again, the only sound except for my own breath.  

A sound. I turn so fast I stumble, only to see nothing there. What did I expect? What was I looking for? What am I hoping to find here? Life forms, maybe. Just your own heartbeat.  

I reach the end of the first hall, and the airlock blows open silently. On the other side is a single window, showcasing a burning star appearing through the dusty orange clouds, an alien sun. With a sharp exhale, I send a prayer to my crewmates. Peace in death. You’re with me, always.  

There’s that noise again, almost as hollow as my footsteps. I turn, breath catching. A shadow slips through another airlock, disappears.  

I follow, heart beating too fast.  

Nothing, again. Just an empty room with pictures etched into the walls, distorted creatures that vaguely resemble humans, arms far too long, bodies contorted and stretched into grotesque caricatures of humanity.  

There’s that sound again. Like footsteps, skittering, claws on metal panels. I can’t breathe. A door opens for me almost out of nowhere, and blindly, I pass through it, coming to a smaller room. 

Computer consoles line the walls and every spare inch of space. A notebook is strewn open, abandoned.  

We found life here, it reads. My heart shudders, too loud in the dark. Outside the closed metal door, I hear clawed footsteps again. It doesn’t seem to be too friendly. Captain Martin, 2357.  

I flip to the next page. There’s nothing else.  

Metal on metal sounds. I panic, grabbing for the light that should be on my belt. Nothing. 

More noise. My lungs aren’t getting enough air. I undo the buckles at the base of my helmet, lift it free.  

Deep breath. Blinding light, the roar of something— air?  then nothingness. Gone.  

******************** 

The doors open slowly. Inside the control room is a skull and a helmet on the other side of the floor. “Who’d be dumb enough to take off their helmet?” she murmurs, lifting it. It’s old, several years, at least. What happened to the rest of that crew?  

“No idea,” her radio crackles back. “Maybe he’s alone. Maybe he went mad. Or maybe the suit just fell apart. We all know that old tech is garbage.” 

“Yeah.” She touches the visor of the man’s helmet, fingers tracing streaks into the layered red dust. “I’m glad I have you,” but it’s uncertain, her hackles rising. 

“Me too,” her companion murmurs back. “Me too.”