Ashen Bloom

The silence was unnatural. For weeks, the comms had buzzed with static and fragmented signals, but now they were dead. On the bridge of the Bayonet, Commander Daniela Reyes stared at the blank screen with her jaw clenched. She tapped at the controls desperately as if sheer will could coax a response from Earth. The absence of the chatter they’d expected—traffic updates, mission control, a simple welcome home—was more than unsettling. They were close now, just breaching the solar system’s edge, and the silence gnawed at her.

“Sparky, talk to me,” she said, as dread coiled in her gut.

“It’s not the array, Commander! I’ve checked it multiple times—rerouted power, recalibrated the antennas!”

Charles Kowalski, Chief Engineer and systems specialist—better known as Sparky for his knack with sparking systems under pressure—grunted from his station. The console was alive with diagnostics as he wrestled with the Bayonet’s strained machinery. His brows were so furrowed that it made his head ache. “Whatever’s wrong, it ain’t us!” he said, gruffly. “Maybe Earth’s just tired of talking.”

Reyes pushed her own rising fear aside and turned to the science stations. “Jian, what do the sensors say?”

Dr Jian Li, the Bayonet’s lead biologist and xenobotanist, looked up from his data screen. His glasses reflected the cold glow of the readouts. “Commander, the readings are… catastrophic! The atmosphere seems saturated with particulates. Ash, debris, volatiles. Temperature gradients are extreme. Looks like… a massive impact event.” Though his voice was clipped and analytical, a tremor betrayed his growing horror.

Nisha Sharma, astrophysicist and data analyst, the youngest among them, leaned over his shoulder and scanned the data. “That’s impossible,” she said, shaking her head. “Earth has defence systems—asteroid deflection tech, early warning protocols. Something this big couldn’t have slipped through. There’s got to be another explanation.”

Sparky snorted. “Yeah, well, looks like the tech took a coffee break! Or someone forgot to flip the ‘save the planet’ switch!”

Marcus “Doc” Chen stood quietly to the side. He tried hard to mask the tightness in his chest. As the medical officer and xenopsychologist, his training kicked in. He read the signs: Reyes’ white-knuckled grip on the console, the tremor in Nisha’s hands, the way Sparky’s sarcasm was fraying at the edges. He stepped closer to Reyes. “Commander, we need to stay grounded.”

Reyes nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She’d led them through years in deep space, through isolation and breakdowns. Her calm was a lifeline for them all. Now, that calm felt like a lie. “Right,” she said, forcing authority into her tone. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Run a full diagnostic on the sensors and see if we can pick up any signals—anything at all. We must…”

But before she could finish, the visual feed flickered to life on the main screen. Earth hung in the void like a wounded spectre. The vibrant swirls of blue and green were gone, replaced by a sickly grey shroud. Vast, dark smears scarred its surface—like impact craters, which still glowed with residual heat. The atmosphere churned unnaturally, and where sprawling cities once glittered in the night, there was only darkness.

A collective gasp ripped through the bridge. Reyes held her breath. No. This can’t be real. Her sister’s laugh. Her nephew’s gap-toothed grin. Gone?

Jian’s voice broke the silence, “It’s worse than I thought! The biosphere… it’s… it’s devastated! Extinction-level!”

Sparky slammed his fist on the console. “Damn it! What the hell happened down there?”

Nisha shook her head, her voice trembling as she grasped at straws. “Maybe… it’s a sensor glitch. Or… or some atmospheric anomaly blocking the visual…” Her eyes pleaded with Jian, but he only stared at the screen, lost in the data’s grim truth.

“There’s nothing!” Sparky snapped, his gaze locked on the ruined planet. “Look at it! That’s not Earth anymore!”

Doc moved to Nisha’s side, forcing himself to look away from the ruined image of Earth. He placed a hand on her arm gently, but his own fingers were perhaps a fraction tighter than intended. “It’s okay to be scared,” he said, shakily. “We all are.” His eyes met Reyes’, a silent question: How do we hold ourselves together now?

Reyes forced herself to breathe, to think past the weight crushing her chest. She was their commander; she couldn’t break, not when they needed her most. But the realisation sank in—Earth was gone.

Then, a faint blip pulsed on the sensor screen: a signal, weak but undeniable.

“Jian, what is that?” she asked sharply.

Jian blinked, snapping out of his daze. “It’s… a transmission! Garbled, but it’s coming from the surface.”

Hope flared, fragile but fierce. Reyes straightened, her calm snapping back into place like armour. “Sparky, boost the gain! Nisha, triangulate the source! We’re not giving up yet!”

The crew sprang into action. Reyes stared at the broken world before them. Earth was scarred, silent, maybe lost—but something, or someone, was still down there, calling out through the void. And she’d be damned if she didn’t answer.

The Bayonet shrieked as it slammed into Earth’s upper atmosphere. No simulation had prepared them for this. The hull trembled under the re-entry, far harsher than usual. Alarms wailed in a discordant chorus, and red lights bathed the bridge in an ominous glow. Commander Daniela Reyes braced against the controls as the ship bucked beneath her. “Keep her together!” she shouted.

Sparky, hunched over his engineering console, wrestled with the systems with tight-lipped focus. “She’s fighting me, Commander!” he growled. “This isn’t no standard drop! Something’s clawing at us out there!”

At the sensor station, Jian relentlessly chased a signal that refused to stay still. The data mocked him. “The transmission’s jumping, Commander,” he said, his voice taut.

“What’s the source?”

“It’s not one source! It’s like it’s coming from a dozen points at once.”

“Jian, that’s not possible!”

“I know, Commander, but the data is unmistakable!”

Reyes swivelled her head. “What could it be? A mobile unit?”

Jian shook his head. “No, it’s… distributed. A network, maybe.”

Nisha, perched beside him, looked at the screen carefully. Her rookie enthusiasm had already dimmed into unease and a growing dread. “Could it be… some kind of tech?” she asked, uncertainly.

Jian shook his head.

Before Reyes could press further, the Bayonet lurched sideways. A violent swirl of air caught the ship, defying all known meteorology. The viewports flared with unnatural hues—swirling greens like infected wounds, purples that pulsed like veins, and sudden streaks of blood-red. The atmosphere was turbulent and seemed to resist their descent.

“What the hell is that?” Reyes cried as she fought the controls.

Sparky glanced out the viewport. “Beats me!” he said, dryly. “Looks like the sky’s having a bad day!”

Doc, seated at the rear, checked the crew’s vitals on his scanner. His medic’s composure held, but his heart hammered with the realisation that Earth was doomed. Heart rates are climbing, oxygen saturation’s dipping. We’re all feeling it—disorientation, pressure.

Reyes felt it too—a pressure building up in her skull as her vision blurred. She blinked hard, trying to focus. “Nisha, what’s below us?”

Nisha inhaled sharply, staring at the data. “Commander, sensors are picking up… objects! Or… creatures! Large ones, flying in formation below the stratosphere! Winged, massive—possibly hundreds of meters across!”

Jian’s head snapped to the display in front of Nisha. His scientific mind recoiled. “What? Big birds? That’s crazy talk!”

“I know it sounds crazy, but look at the readings!”

“Nothing that size could sustain flight.”

Sparky snorted, though his hands never left the controls. “Guess we took a wrong turn, huh? Time-travelled back to the dinosaur days! Or maybe forward—who’s keeping track?”

Suddenly, one of the shapes veered closer, its silhouette cutting through the haze. Its jagged-looking wings stretched impossibly wide, and a cluster of glowing eyes, far too many for any earthly creature, past or present, fixed on the Bayonet. The crew froze, as they all felt a primal chill. The shape disappeared within the clouds again as the ship lurched downward.

“Landing zone!” Reyes snapped. “Find me one, now!”

Jian and Nisha scrambled as they scanned the blur of data in front of them. “There,” Jian said, locking coordinates with a decisive tap. “A valley! Minimal distortion! It’s scarred, but good enough to land.”

“Take us in, Sparky,” Reyes ordered. “No heroics! Just get us down.”

Sparky grunted as he grabbed the controls. “Heroics? I’m just trying not to die!”

The Bayonet plunged through the final layer of turbulence. It skimmed past a tendril of that living sky. Thankfully, the creatures didn’t follow. They only watched and then disappeared. The landing was a brutal jolt. Their ship skidded across the valley’s cracked earth before grinding to a halt. Dust billowed outside the viewports. The engines coughed and died. For a moment, only the crew’s ragged breaths filled the silence.

Reyes unstrapped herself and rose on legs that trembled. “Status?”

“Alive!” Sparky muttered, slumping back in his seat. “Ship’s in one piece, mostly! I’ll take it.”

Doc moved to Reyes’ side and whispered, “You’re the rock, Daniela, but even rocks crack. Take a breath.” She met his gaze and nodded. She softened her stern features before she turned to the others.

“Jian, Nisha—keep tracking that signal. Sparky, check the hull. We’re not stepping out – not yet!”

As they moved to their tasks, Nisha muttered in a small voice, “Maybe whoever sent that signal didn’t make it.”

“Maybe it was a warning,” said Jian.

Reyes squared her shoulders, staring out at the dust-choked valley. According to the coordinates, they had landed somewhere in what was once North America’s Midwest. The shadowed shapes high above could not be seen from their vantage point, but the land before her was a nightmare canvas. Through the viewport, the valley floor stretched out, fractured by deep, jagged fissures that pulsed with an eerie orange—like veins of light throbbing beneath the earth’s cracked skin. The soil was a sickly ash-grey, with patches of an oily sheen that caught the dim light of the setting sun and twisted it into unnatural hues.

The vegetation? It was even more impossible. Twisted, gnarled trees rose from the ground, their bark resembling scales rather than wood. The trees seemed to be coated in a thin layer of metal. In place of green leaves were grey, fleshy pod-like structures dangling from the branches. Thick vines snaked across the terrain, and their surfaces bristled with tiny, twitching spines that quivered. Clusters of unidentifiable fungi erupted in vivid, unnatural colours—violent purples, neon yellows, and a red so deep it bordered on black. This was no longer the Earth they knew; it had transformed into something foreign and unrecognisable.

Reyes swallowed hard. “Madre de Dios,” she whispered with both awe and dread.

Behind her, Sparky let out a low whistle. “Well, damn! Looks like the planet took a detour through a horror vid.” He squinted at the viewport, then added with a nervous chuckle, “You sure we didn’t take a wrong turn and end up in the Jurassic?”

Jian peered through the viewport with wide eyes. “Incredible!” he murmured, in a shaky voice. “What is this? Mutation? But how? The impact alone shouldn’t…”

“No, it shouldn’t!” cut in Nisha, as her face drained of colour. “It’s wrong! A mutation on this scale would take millennia after an impact event. The planet’s been hit hard, but this… this is accelerated beyond anything natural. It’s like the Earth’s turned into something else!”

Doc stepped closer to the viewport. His steady demeanour was unravelling. His hands trembled as he adjusted his wrist scanner. He met Nisha’s frightened eyes. “We’re still standing,” he said, trying to retain composure. “That’s got to count for something, right?”

Reyes glanced at Doc, drawing strength from his effort despite the fear she saw in his eyes. “Doc’s right,” she said, forcing her voice to steady. “We’re still here. Let’s deal with… whatever this is.” She turned to Jian. “Jian, what about the signal?”

Jian shook his head, staring at the screen. “Nothing. It was there, then it just… stopped. Like it was never there. No data, no trace.”

***

The crew worked in uneasy silence. No new data. No answers. Just time stretching on. Hours slipped by, and a creeping unease settled over the crew like a second skin. They filled the time with restless activity—running system checks, poring over inscrutable data, recalibrating instruments that offered no clarity. Reyes stood at the helm, watching as the world beyond the ship’s hull surrendered to a deepening gloom.

Outside, the landscape they’d landed in took on an increasingly alien cast. The cliffs glistened with an unnatural gleam. The ground, as far as they could see, was scarred with fissures and tangled with gnarled vegetation. Like something out of a distant memory or a half-forgotten map—and yet, utterly foreign, reshaped by forces beyond comprehension.

Then came the fog.

It rolled in slowly, its tendrils coiling around the ship with an unnatural grace. This was no ordinary mist—it was thick and had flecks of green and violet glinting within its depths. It was swirling in patterns that defied logic or wind. It pressed against the viewport, smearing the view into a distorted haze. The darkness deepened with it, swallowing the last traces of light until the valley beyond was little more than a void.

Reyes’ jaw tightened as she caught a flicker of movement in the fog—a massive, indistinct shape that seemed to lurk before dissolving into the shadows. She exhaled sharply. The crew’s tense voices murmured behind her.

“Commander,” Doc said quietly, stepping to her side. His eyes followed hers to the shrouded viewport. “It’s not letting up out there.”

She nodded, her mind already turning over the options—or lack thereof. The unknown pressed in from every direction, and venturing out now, blind and unprepared, was no longer a choice. She turned to face the crew.

“We’re staying put,” she declared. “We spend the night in the ship, get what rest we can, and wait for morning. Whatever’s out there, we’ll deal with it when we’ve got daylight and a clearer picture.”

The crew exchanged glances. Sparky broke the silence. “You sure the sun’s even gonna break through that mess, Commander?”

“It’ll rise. That’s enough for now. We secure the ship, set a watch, and hold tight until then.”

II

Reyes clutched a worn photo of her sister and nephew, the only family she’d left behind. The weight of command pressed down on her. Had they survived? Was this nightmare real? She’d led her crew through the abyss, but this? This felt like a breaking point. She closed her eyes, hoping the dawn would prove it was all a lie.

Jian had poured his life into unravelling the secrets of living systems, years spent mapping nature’s delicate threads. Now, he wondered if it had all been for nothing. Grief tangled with guilt, shadowed by a gnawing fear: what if his work had just been a fleeting illusion? The deep-space mission had stretched his sanity thin. Perhaps his mind had fabricated this horror? He rubbed his eyes, yearning for an end to the torment.

Sparky sat slumped in his chair. “Some welcome mat,” he muttered. He had always believed that anything could be fixed with the right tools. But how do you fix a broken world? He chuckled dryly. There was no humour in it.

Nisha curled up on her bunk, clutching a pendant from her mother. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Had her family escaped the cataclysm? Had anyone? At twenty-three, she’d traded her future for the stars, and now? She pressed the pendant closer, praying.

Doc lingered by the med bay window. The darkness outside mirrored the hollow in his chest. He had spent years mending wounds, but no training prepared him for the realisation that his hometown, his partner, everything he held dear, might be gone forever. His hands trembled. Maybe, he wondered, his mind had finally cracked trying to heal those of others.

***

The night passed in an unsettling quiet. No alarms blared, no further tremors shook the Bayonet. Darkness continued to press against the hull like a thick, impenetrable blanket that veiled them from the ravaged world outside. Then, slowly, almost reluctantly, the first rays of the sun began to slice through the persistent fog. But sunlight offered no respite.

The charred, ashen world they had witnessed the day before remained unchanged. The sun, heavily obscured by clouds, cast a weak, diffused light, making it feel more like a twilight than a morning. The crew held their breath. They half-expected some monstrous creature to emerge from the gloom. Yet, apart from the bizarre, skeletal trees outside, there was no sign of movement, no indication of life. The garbled signal from the previous day was also gone.

A heavy resolve settled on Commander Reyes. “Alright,” she announced. “Time to see what’s out there. Sparky, Nisha—you’re with me! Suit up!”

“Commander, what about the signal from yesterday?” asked Jian, apprehensively. “It was strong, structured. And then it just… vanished.”

“What if it was artificial? Something—or someone—sent it,” said Nisha, uncertainly.

Reyes met their gazes. “Then we have even more reason to find out what’s going on. We won’t get answers sitting here.”

Jian hesitated. “We could send out a drone first…”

Sparky shook his head. “No good. The fog’s too thick, and the particulate interference is off the charts. Sensors barely work beyond a few meters. We’d get nothing useful.”

Reyes exhaled. “We do it the old-fashioned way. We go slow and keep comms open.”

Sparky let out a dry chuckle as he rose from his seat. “Fantastic! A morning stroll through the apocalypse! Just what I needed!” He began pulling on his environmental suit.

Nisha looked out the viewport where the ashen landscape loomed under the weak sunlight. “Commander, are you sure it’s safe?” she asked, uneasily.

Reyes met her eyes. “We won’t know until we check, Nisha. But we can’t stay cooped up in here forever. Jian, give us an atmospheric reading.”

Jian tapped at the controls. His brow creased as the data streamed in. “Okay, it’s not promising. High concentrations of carbon dioxide and methane, with traces of sulphur compounds. Oxygen at 12%—well below breathable levels. The air’s loaded with particulates. Visibility’s going to be poor out there. Gravity’s normal, though.”

Sparky shrugged as he sealed his gloves. “That asteroid must’ve been big enough to wreck the place but not enough to shave off serious mass. Rotation and orbit might’ve taken a hit, but nothing we’d notice standing here.”

Reyes nodded. Scientifically, it tracked—an impact could churn the atmosphere and biosphere without drastically altering Earth’s gravitational pull. “Good! Helmets stay on. Doc, keep an eye on our vitals. If anything goes off, you yank us back in.”

Doc was stationed near the medical bay. “Always, Commander. I’ve got you covered.” With a tight smile on his face and worry in his eyes, he watched them prepare.

The airlock cycled with a hiss, and Reyes, Sparky and Nisha stepped out. The ground crunched beneath their boots, like a brittle mix of ash and fractured stone. The fog was thick. It coiled around their legs, reducing the world to vague silhouettes. The dim sunlight cast an eerie glow on the surface.

Sparky kicked at the soil. “Like walking on burnt toast! Nice touch, planet!”

Reyes, a few steps ahead, stopped abruptly and pointed. “The trees— let’s take a look up close.”

They approached one of the twisted, outlandish trees dotting the landscape. Its bark held a metallic sheen, scaled and rough, while pod-like structures hung from its branches—grey and fleshy. Reyes frowned. “These aren’t natural. Something’s been messing with the ecosystem.”

Sparky reached out and brushed a gloved hand against a pod. Instantly, its surface hardened into jagged, crystalline spikes, and a sharp hiss accompanied a puff of gas that dispersed into the foggy air. He jerked his hand back. “Well, that’s rude! Spiky little bastard!”

Nisha stepped forward. “That reaction—it’s like a Mimosa pudica,” she said, thoughtfully. “You know, the sensitive plant that folds up when touched? Or even some species that release volatile compounds to ward off herbivores, like certain acacias.” She crouched slightly, peering at the pod. “But this… this is far beyond that. No terrestrial plant behaves with this kind of intensity. This species is completely alien.”

Jian’s voice cut in over the comms, sharp with caution. “Careful out there. If it’s releasing anything volatile, it could be trouble, even with the suits.”

Reyes studied the tree intently. “I remember those old environmental cleanup projects,” she said. “They were meant to fix the biosphere. Could some tech like that—” she gestured at the pods “—be twisting the flora?”

Nisha tilted her head, considering it. “Systems were built to nudge recovery, but this is… extreme.”

Jian’s voice crackled through the comms, “No, Commander. I worked on projects like that. They were for small fixes—cleaning air, patching soil. Reworking entire biomes? No human tech could pull that off.”

Reyes turned her gaze back to the tree. “Then what else could do this? Something’s rewriting the rules.”

“I don’t know yet…”

Before they could speculate further, a sound sliced through—a harsh, deep bark, like a dog’s cry echoing from the distance. The trio froze. Slowly, they turned their heads toward the source.

“That didn’t sound like a happy puppy,” said Sparky.

“Survivors, maybe? A dog that made it through?” said Nisha.

Reyes felt her gut tighten. “Doubt it! Not after what we’ve seen.” She glanced back at the ship.

“Commander, your heart rate is climbing,” Doc’s voice came through the comms. “Maybe head back?”

“Hold on,” Reyes said, raising a hand. “Let’s see if it…”

Another bark rang out, closer now, paired with a low growl that vibrated through the ground. The fog seemed to thicken again, pressing against their suits. Sparky muttered, “Yeah, that’s not a dog.”

The trio froze as a shape emerged. It was a massive dog-like creature, easily five feet tall, but draped in feathers instead of fur. Feathers of blues, golds, and greens, which flared at its rear like a peacock’s tail. Its wolfish snout tilted upward, and its red, glowing eyes fixed on them inquisitively.

Sparky’s voice cracked over the comms. “Holy hell! What is that thing?”

Nisha shuddered and took a step back.

Reyes’s voice was tight. “Stay calm. Damn it, we have no weapons. This mission was never supposed to involve groundside hostilities.”

The creature stepped closer, its claws clicking against the earth. Then another bark sounded, and from the fog, a pack emerged—ten more of these peacock-wolves, their feathers glinting as they watched from a distance, a silent, colourful herd poised on the ridge. The lead one advanced, its dog-like face lowering until it was mere feet from Nisha. She stumbled backwards, falling onto the brittle ground with a yelp. The creature sniffed her suit. Its hot breath fogged her visor as its face came dangerously close to Nisha’s helmet. Her hands scrambled for purchase, her voice trembled. “Commander!”

“Easy,” Reyes said. The creature’s glowing eyes met Nisha’s. Its snout twitched. Then, with a low, rumbling huff, it drew back. Its vibrant tail feathers folded inward, and it turned away, rejoining its pack in a slow, deliberate retreat.

Sparky helped Nisha up. “That’s it! Back to the ship, now!”

They turned. As their boots crunched, a loud rustling came from their left. They froze again as they turned their heads, expecting another nightmare. A towering figure loomed into view—a long-necked creature, like a large giraffe, but its neck stretching impossibly high, towering almost twenty feet, ending in a round, almost comical face with wide, flat mouths and small, expressive eyes. Its skin was a mottled grey-green. It bent gracefully toward a tree and engulfed a pod in its mouth. The pod yielded without spiking or hissing.

Jian’s voice crackled over the comms, hushed with awe. “What… what are these things? They’re not in any taxonomy I know.”

“Dinosaur!” exclaimed Sparky.

Nisha, still shaken, managed a whisper. “It’s eating them… Look, the pods aren’t reacting like they did with us.”

Reyes’s mind raced. “Symbiosis. Something’s keeping this ecosystem going.”

Suddenly, Sparky let out a strangled yell. “What the—!” He stumbled back, pointing at a pitch-black shape scuttling toward them from the undergrowth. It was the size of a hound. Its glossy, segmented shell was like that of a tortoise’s, but as it neared, wings unfurled from beneath. A swarm of them—ten or twelve—buzzed upward, circling the crew like fleas. Their tiny eyes glinted, mandibles clicked, and then they flew off into the fog like impossibly large insects.

“Tortoise… ladybugs?” Sparky’s cried in panic and disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

Reyes grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the airlock. “Move! Now!”

They bolted, and the crunch of their boots drowned out their ragged breaths. Jian and Doc were speechless.

“It’s a freakshow!” Sparky shouted as they piled into the airlock. “Big, feathery peacock-dogs, neck-stretching freaks, and bugs with shells!”

They collapsed against the walls, panting. Doc rushed forward and scanned them. “You’re not hurt. Thank God.”

Reyes yanked off her helmet, her face pale but resolute. “Those… things! What… What are they?”

“Whatever they are, they’re not from any Earth we knew,” said Nisha.

III

Inside the Bayonet’s command module, the crew gathered around the central console. Reyes stood with her arms crossed with a frown on her face. The others—Sparky, Nisha, Jian, and Doc—sat or leaned against stations, all lost in thought and contemplation.

Reyes broke the silence. “We need answers. What are we dealing with? Thoughts?”

Sparky snorted. “Alien invasion, hands down! Something crashed into Earth, then moved in while we were gone. Those freaky wolves and bugs? Straight outta their playbook—terraforming the planet for themselves.”

Nisha shook her head. “But Earth would’ve warned us—mission control tracked every spacecraft, every anomaly. They’d have seen something coming unless it popped out of a wormhole right over the planet, which is a stretch.”

“What about an asteroid, then? They flagged a big one before we lost comms, didn’t they?”

“Yes, NASA kept detecting asteroids hurtling toward Earth for as long as I can remember. But eventually, they all just passed by. Maybe they knew this one was heading Earth’s way but didn’t tell us—thought it’d miss too. By the time they knew, it was too late. The lines were dead.”

“Possible,” said Reyes, grimly. “Plus, there are no alien signatures—no tech, no ships. Just organic chaos. Doesn’t add up. Do you think this asteroid brought with it some form of alien life, that took over our planet rapidly?”

Doc thought for a while before he spoke up, “Or maybe it’s natural.”

“Natural?”

“An evolutionary surge. The asteroid’s impact could’ve spiked mutation rates, pushed species to adapt fast. After Chernobyl, radiation accelerated genetic changes—plants grew bigger, animals shifted traits. This could be that, dialled up to eleven.”

“But… this fast?” asked Jian. “How long before we lost communication? Weeks? Just over a month, maybe?”

Reyes tilted her head. “You’re right! Chernobyl’s one thing, but this? Even with radiation or chemical fallout, you’re talking millennia for whole new species—those wolves, those longnecks. The timeline’s too tight.”

“Exactly,” Jian added. “And their behaviour—curious, not aggressive. That’s not a survival scramble.”

But Sparky was undeterred. “Fine, scratch the aliens. What about something from below? The impact cracks the crust, unleashing a hidden biosphere. Scientists have theories—microbes in deep-sea vents, life in Earth’s mantle. Maybe this is that, busting out.”

“Subterranean life’s real. Bacteria thrive miles down, sure,” Jian said. “But complex organisms? Extremophiles would be blind, pale, low-energy—adapted to caves or pressure, not this air and light. These things are built for the surface. And we have seismic data on vast underground networks. There’s nothing.”

Nisha tapped her fingers on the console, thinking hard. “Okay, how about a government experiment gone rogue?”

Everyone turned to her.

“Hear me out,” she said. “Maybe it’s something classified. Genetic engineering, bioweapons, maybe. The asteroid hits, stirs up chaos, and maybe that bioremediation grid, you know, the old network meant to clean up the planet’s air and soil, gets tangled in the mess.”

Reyes’ eyes narrowed. “If it were the government, I’d know. Jian, you would too. Word gets around, even on classified stuff. I knew about some experiments—gene splicing for crops, a few bio-defence projects. But nothing on this scale. This isn’t localised damage. This seems planetary. No lab could pull this off.”

Doc nodded, rubbing his chin. “She’s right! An experiment would leave test zones and hot spots. This is everywhere! Like the whole planet’s a test tube!”

Sparky slumped back, exasperated. “So, what? Aliens are out, evolution’s too slow, the ground’s not hiding freaks, and the government didn’t blow it this time. We’re back to square one.”

Jian stared at the console, with unblinking eyes. “We’re clearly missing something.”

As they sat quietly for a few minutes, lost in thought, a sharp crackle erupted from the comms panel. It was a garbled signal of static. Reyes straightened. “Jian, what is that?”

Jian’s brow creased as data streamed in. “It’s back! The signal from yesterday. And it’s… not from a single source. It’s… pulsing… fluctuating!”

“You mean it’s not coming from a transmitter?” asked Nisha, warily.

“No. It’s coming from… everywhere!”

“Look, Commander! Look!”

Sparky’s cry drew their eyes to the viewport. Outside, in the fog-choked valley, the pack of peacock-wolves stood silhouetted against the dim light. As one, they froze, and their vibrant tails snapped shut. Their heads tilted skyward in perfect unison. They couldn’t hear them, but clearly, they were howling like a pack of wolves. And as if with their howls, the swirl of violet and green in the fog pulsed like a heartbeat.

Sparky jolted upright. “You seeing this? They’re moving like a damn hive mind! And the atmosphere… it’s… It’s reacting!”

Reyes stepped closer to the glass. “It’s not just them.” Beyond the wolves, a long-necked pod-feeder paused mid-bite. Its round face lifted, as if listening. A swarm of tortoise-ladybugs buzzed to a halt mid-flight, hovering in eerie stillness. The timing matched the signal’s burst.

Doc frowned at his wrist scanner. “Something’s off out there. I’m picking up stress patterns in those creatures. Elevated heart rates, erratic breathing.”

“Those… creatures… are stressed?” asked Nisha, nervously.

“Not just the creatures. There’s something else. Something big, lurking beyond the fog. Can’t pinpoint it, but it’s… tense, coiled.”

Sparky’s eyes widened. “Great! So there’s a monster hiding in the shadows, waiting to eat us? What is it this time? Anaconda? Godzilla? King Kong?”

“Whatever it is, it’s stressing everything else out there,” said Reyes.

Doc nodded. “The other creatures are reacting to it. It’s like fear, like a pressure building up.”

Jian tapped at the screen rapidly, pulling up his personal files. Blueprints, code, notes from a life before the Bayonet. “Wait… these patterns…” His voice dropped, almost to himself. “The signal’s harmonics… I’ve seen this before. But this…” He trailed off, concentrating on the screen.

Nisha turned to him. “What is it, Jian?”

Jian didn’t meet her eyes. He was lost in the data. “Maybe. Just maybe. But not how we designed them. Someone’s rewritten them.”

Reyes turned toward Jian sharply. “Rewritten what? To do what?”

Jian shook his head. “I don’t know yet,” he said, in frustration.

“Tell us what you’re thinking!” ordered Reyes.

Jian looked up, letting out a heavy breath. “The Atmospheric Harmonisers—nanobots from the bioremediation project I worked on. Their core code used adaptive frequencies to sync with ecosystems. But not like this. The patterns—these spikes and dips in the signal—they’re mimicking the feedback loops we coded into the AH grid to monitor atmospheric shifts. Back then, we used short, controlled bursts to adjust carbon levels or trigger rain cycles. This is the same rhythm, but amplified and chaotic. Like the code’s been stretched to echo something massive—something alive.”

“But if the AH grid is tied to this signal—and those creatures—they’re reacting… to what?” Reyes turned towards the viewport again.

Outside, the peacock-wolves let out another synchronised howl. They seemed to be answering an unseen call. The fog quickly thickened, hiding whatever loomed beyond, and the crew exchanged uneasy glances.

Sparky’s voice broke the silence. “Whatever’s out there, it’s the king! You saw how those things froze up. Like they’re scared of it.”

Doc nodded. “The stress readings… they’re spiking again. Not just the wolves. Everything out there’s on edge. It’s like something massive is lurking. Just out of sight, putting the whole valley on a razor’s edge.”

Reyes’ jaw clenched. “A creature, then. Something huge, hiding in that fog, calling the shots.”

Jian’s eyes widened as he pieced it together. “You were right, Commander! What if the asteroid that hit Earth brought something with it an alien lifeform? Something massive, incomprehensible, intelligent? It could’ve seeded the planet rapidly, changed everything. The AH grid might’ve tried to sync with it, and gotten caught up in its wake. That would explain the signal, the chaos.”

“We should just shoot that thing down,” said Reyes. “But we can’t fire blind. If we miss, we might make it worse.” Her jaw tightened. “Sparky, if it comes for us, can we even get a clean shot with the pulse canons?”

Sparky rubbed his chin. “I can juice ‘em up. They’re meant to shatter space rocks, but they’d pack a hell of a punch against flesh—assuming we can aim the damn things. The problem is, we’ve got to see it first. Fog’s too thick to shoot blind.”

“Agreed. We need eyes on it before we fire. Doc, Jian—work together. Keep tracking that signal, narrow down a probable source. If it gets too close, we might have to take a shot.”

“I’ll map the harmonics,” said Jian. “If it’s moving, we’ll see it in the data.”

Nisha shifted uncomfortably. “What if it’s not hostile?”

Reyes met Nisha’s eyes. “You’re right, Nisha.” She exhaled. “If it comes to it and we can’t see what we’re up against, we might have to fly off again. Find a safer spot to land, and figure this out from a distance.”

Sparky groaned. “Great! Back to bouncing around the sky with a monster on our tail.”

IV

Morning dragged by inside the Bayonet. Each hour stretched into an eternity of frayed nerves and restless vigilance. The crew remained hunched over screens. Tension coiled tighter with every passing minute. The signal—those haunting bursts of static had grown insistent. Jian and Doc tracked its patterns, while Sparky paced, muttering curses under his breath. Nisha sat rigid, looking at the viewport nervously, as if expecting the fog to part and reveal their doom.

“It’s circling us,” Jian said, after hours of analysis. He pointed to a jagged waveform on his screen, spiking and dipping. “It’s massive! And it’s flying! Look at this: it moves forward, then doubles back, then leaps off mid-air! It’s almost like it’s defying physics. No consistent altitude, no predictable path!”

Doc’s scanner trembled in his grip. “Stress readings are through the roof! Whatever’s out there, it’s agitating everything. Matches the size of that thing we saw coming down. The one with the glowing eyes!”

Sparky stopped pacing, his face pale. “The flying beast? You’re telling me that nightmare’s been stalking us all day? Just biding its time to swoop in and crack us open?”

Reyes stood at the viewport, her arms crossed tightly, staring into the fog where violet pulses flickered like distant lightning in slow motion. “If it’s the apex predator of this new Earth, it’s playing with us. Waiting for the right moment.”

“Why hasn’t it attacked yet?” Nisha whispered, apprehensively. “It’s been out there for hours.”

“It’s sizing us up.”

“Or it’s not sure what we are,” said Doc. “But the way it’s moving—erratic, almost taunting—it won’t be long before it attacks.”

But the day bled into night, and the weak twilight surrendered to an impenetrable darkness. The signal grew sharper, more frenzied, and continued to loop around them in an invisible noose. The crew’s eyes burned with exhaustion, and they couldn’t even think of sleep. With shallow breaths, they waited for the inevitable.

Then, as the first hints of dawn crept through the fog, the signal shifted. Jian’s head snapped up.

“It’s… pulling away,” he said. “The patterns are stretching out, and fading. It’s moving off, getting distant. Did it decide we’re not a threat?”

Doc confirmed it. “Yes, whatever it was, it’s not circling anymore.”

Sparky slumped against the wall. “Guess the big bad bird got bored of us! About time!”

Reyes didn’t relax. The fog seemed thinner now, and the violet pulses were gone. She turned to the crew. “This is our window! We take off, find another spot, maybe somewhere this thing isn’t anywhere nearby. Sparky, prep the engines! Jian, keep an eye on that signal in case it doubles back when we’re taking off.”

Sparky moved to his station. “Engines will be hot in ten. Let’s not stick around for round two.”

Nisha looked troubled. “But what if it comes back while we’re mid-air? We barely saw it coming down. Those eyes, that speed! We’d be defenceless up there.”

“You’re right—it’s a risk,” nodded Reyes. “If it catches us in flight, we might not have a shot at outrunning it.” She turned to Sparky. “Sparky, can you rig the pulse canons to fire mid-air if that thing comes at us?”

Sparky scratched his head. “Sure, I can get ‘em hot! Firing mid-air’s another beast, though. Those cannons are built for deep space—zero-G, no drag, stable targeting against slow rocks. In an atmosphere with turbulence, wind shear, and us moving? It’s a crapshoot! I’d have to recalibrate the gyros on the fly, and even then, hitting a target that fast would be like threading a needle in a storm.”

Reyes weighed his words. The pulse cannons relied on precise alignment, something Earth’s thick, turbulent atmosphere could disrupt. She shook it off. “We’ll make do. Staying here, pinned down, waiting for it to decide we’re prey? That’s not an option either. We move now, while it’s far off, and hope we can stay ahead. Come on, guys! Fasten your seatbelts!”

Outside, the fog stirred, as if reluctant to release its grip, just as the Bayonet’s engines rumbled to life.

Reyes gripped the helm. “Hold tight!” she shouted, in the midst of the rising whine.

The ship lurched upward, pressing the crew into their seats with a crushing force that made their chests ache. The g-forces pinned them, and the valley’s ashen floor dropped away below. Through the viewport, the fog thickened quickly, and its tendrils swirled faster, denser, and clung to the Bayonet like a living thing.

Nisha’s eyes widened. “Commander! The fog! It’s following us!”

“It’s sticking to the hull!” cried Jian. “Fog doesn’t do that!”

Reyes’ knuckles whitened on the controls, and her jaw remained clenched. “It’s not normal fog. Something’s driving it!” The ship shuddered, and the pressure outside mounted, further resisting their ascent.

Then, a shadow loomed within the mist. A massive, indistinct shape, its edges jagged and fleeting. It darted across the viewport, too vast to comprehend, like a silhouette against the subdued sunlight. Sparky swore, fumbling with the pulse cannon controls. His hands shook as he tried to lock on. “There it is! The bastard’s back! I can’t… Damn it, it’s too fast!”

The beast faded into the fog, only to reappear on the starboard side. The blur of motion defied physics. “It’s jumping around!” cried Sparky. “Won’t stay still long enough to shoot!”

Nisha’s hands gripped her harness. She shrieked, “It’s the thing from Descent! Look! Those eyes! It’s hunting us!” Her face drained of colour as she stared into the fog.

Doc’s calm was shattered, and his scanner slipped from his grasp as he pressed himself back in his seat. “It knows we’re here!”

The shadow outside flickered again. The Bayonet trembled as it climbed. They were still short of escape velocity.

Reyes shouted, “Sparky, get those cannons on it! Now!”

“I’m trying!” Sweat beaded on his forehead as the targeting screen blinked red. “It’s like chasing a ghost! One second, it’s there, then gone!”

The fog pulsed, and then—glowing eyes pierced through the haze. Orbs of fractured light, too many to count, staring directly at them. Like a constellation of malice, flickering in and out as the beast’s shadow loomed closer. Nisha screamed, a raw, primal sound that echoed through the cabin.

Sparky’s hands froze on the controls. “We’re dead! We’re so dead!”

Reyes’ heart pounded, and her vision tunnelled as she pushed the engines harder. The ship groaned under the strain. “Hold it together! We’re almost…”

“I’ve been a fool!” Jian’s voice cut through, shrill and desperate. He unbuckled, staggering against the g-forces to grab Reyes’ arm.

“Jian! What the hell? Are you insane?” screamed Reyes.

“He’s gone cuckoo! He’s lost it!” cried Sparky.

“Commander, land us back!” shouted Jian, scrambling to stay on his feet as he clutched the console. “Sparky, don’t fire!”

“What? We’re sitting ducks down there!”

“Trust me!” Jian pleaded. “I’ve been blind! This isn’t what we think! Land us! Please!”

Reyes’ eyes narrowed, as she weighed the odds. Jian’s wild conviction gnawed at her. Against every instinct, she barked, “Reverse thrust! Bring us down!”

The Bayonet groaned, protesting as the thrusters fought to halt their climb. Gravity clawed back, dragging them earthward with a jolt. The ship shuddered violently, caught between ascent and descent. Its trajectory became a fragile arc while still within the atmosphere’s grip. They hadn’t yet breached escape velocity, and reversing course mid-ascent strained every bolt. The retro-thrusters roared against the pull of momentum.

The engines finally whined into silence as the hull settled back onto the brittle earth. The fog still clung to the viewports. But the crew’s nerves were raw from the aborted ascent. Before anyone could unbuckle, Jian bolted from his seat, and staggered toward the suit rack wildly.

“Jian, what…” Nisha started, but he was already yanking on a spacesuit, almost frantically.

“Open the airlock!” Jian barked, sealing his helmet with a click. “I need to get out there! Now!”

Sparky threw up his hands in exhaustion and incredulity. “He’s flipped! Completely lost it! First, he’s screaming to land, now he’s playing astronaut in monster central?”

Reyes rose, and blocked Jian’s path to the airlock controls. Her voice was steel, “Jian, stop! I trusted you enough to land this ship. I need an explanation. Not you chasing whims. Why did we come back? What was that beast? What do you know?”

Jian’s gloved hands trembling as he met her gaze. His face, framed by the helmet’s visor, was pale but resolute. “I’ll explain everything, Commander! I promise! But first, I have to go out. That beast—it isn’t a predator! It’s something else, something I’ve missed until now. Please, let me do this.”

The crew fell silent. Reyes studied him, and her dark eyes narrowed as she searched his for madness—or truth. There was no hesitation in Jian’s stare, only a burning conviction that stirred something in her gut. She stepped aside. “Alright.”

“Commander, no!” Nisha lunged forward. “He’s going to get himself killed! And us! We don’t even know what’s out there!”

“Yeah, reel him back in!” Sparky cried in alarm. “He’s one step from feeding himself to whatever’s lurking in that fog!”

Reyes held up a hand. “Jian knows something.” She cast an oblique glance at Doc.

Doc, who was still clutching his scanner, nodded faintly, confirming.

The airlock cycled with a hiss. The outer door slid open to reveal the fog-choked valley beyond. Jian stepped out. His suit’s lights cut like beams through the haze. The crew crowded the viewport.

Jian stumbled toward the trees. Their gnarled trunks gleamed under the weak sun. The dangling pods seemed to be pulsing along their branches like human hearts. He stopped short, eyes wide with wild wonder. “Look at this!” he shouted over the comms, voice trembling with exhilaration. “New trees! They weren’t here yesterday!” He spun toward the ridge, pointing eagerly. “And look—the peacock-wolves! There are more of them now! Look, those smaller ones—calves!”

Inside the Bayonet, the crew stared with scepticism and unease. Sparky scratched his head, muttering, “Calves? Overnight trees? What’s he smoking out there?”

Nisha frowned. “He’s acting like it’s a damn safari!”

Reyes tilted her head as she watched Jian’s frantic gestures. “Hold on,” she said. She glanced at Doc. “Check his vitals.”

Doc’s checked his wrist scanner. “Heart rate’s up. But his cortisol is spiking too. Grief, stress. He’s sad, Commander. Beneath all that excitement, he’s breaking. Mourning.”

“Sad?” Reyes frowned, glancing at Jian’s trembling hands. “Why the hell would he be sad about trees and wolf pups?”

Outside, Jian barely heard them. He gazed across the valley with a feverish energy. “Where are they?” he muttered, almost to himself. “The giraffe-things? The long-necks with those spindly legs? And those shelled bugs? They’re here somewhere, I know it!” His voice was brimming with the joy of discovery, yet there was something else in it.

Jian tilted his head back and stared into the swirling fog above. His arms flung wide, and he screamed. His voice cracked, as if ripped from his chest, raw and desperate, “I’m sorry! We’re sorry! Come down! Come to me!”

The crew flinched. Nisha’s eyes were wide. “What’s he doing?”

Reyes called out cautiously, “Jian?”

Then they saw it—the fog parted and revealed a black mass high above. It was like a vast, rippling cloud of black particles, not as solid as they had thought. The mass pulsed and flowed in waves. Like a river of shadow, sizable enough to swallow the sky. It wasn’t vapour or gas; it was a swarm, countless tiny insect-like things that moved as one entity. And within its depths, lights flickered – several of them, tiny glowing pinpricks, like fractured eyes staring down.

Sparky choked out, “What… is that?”

The black mass hovered, and its glowing “eyes” blinked in eerie sync, as if studying them. It didn’t descend further, didn’t strike. It just watched. Then, slowly, it unravelled, dispersing back into the fog like ink dissolving in water, leaving space once more.

Jian staggered back toward the airlock. He looked defeated, exhausted. Once inside, he slumped against the wall, and tears streamed down his face. His helmet clattered to the floor, revealing eyes red with sorrow. The burden of his realisation spilt out in silent sobs. And the crew stood frozen.

Doc kneeled beside him, “Jian! You must tell us. Don’t hold it in your heart.”

Reyes crouched beside him. “Jian, what is that thing? Help us understand.”

Jian’s voice was soft and trembling, “I saw it in the signal patterns—those bursts weren’t random. Post-traumatic stress. Oh, the hurt! The pain! The grief! We can’t even imagine.”

The others looked at each other, still uncertain.

“It’s the Atmospheric Harmonisers,” said Jian. His hands trembled as he wiped his face, smearing tears and dust across his cheeks. “Our nanobots. From the bioremediation project. But they’re not just machines anymore.” He swallowed hard, searching for words.

“The bioremediation grid?” asked Nisha, confused.

“How did that turn into this?” asked Reyes, frowning.

“The system absorbed it,” said Jian. “Humanity’s last moments—the panic, the grief, all that horror before the end. The moments when they knew. When they were sure. And Earth… it woke up! After the catastrophe, the planet became traumatised, almost like a sentient being. The AH grid fused with it and became its shield. Like a defence mechanism. Like an immune system kicking in. It was checking us out—to see if we’re a threat or not.”

The crew sat in a tense circle. The fog outside seemed to be thinning now. Questions gnawed at them. Reyes broke the silence first.

“Okay, Jian, let’s back up. You said the AH grid encoded humanity’s grief. How does that even work? Machines process data. They don’t feel. How do nanobots turn screams into… this?”

Jian took a deep breath. “It’s not feeling, not like us. The AH grid was designed to monitor environmental feedback, like temperature, carbon dioxide levels, and bio-signals from plants and animals. They’re adaptive. Built to learn and adjust. During the catastrophe, humanity’s last moments—panic, grief, all that raw emotion—went out as broadcasts, signals, neural spikes if you were hooked into the grid. The nanobots picked it up and mistook it for a new kind of atmospheric data. Just like… social media algorithms. They analyse posts, detect sentiment—happy, sad, angry—and adapt. The AH grid took in humanity’s last moments and processed it like pollution, like something to fix.”

Nisha shook her head. “That’s insane. You’re saying the AH grid just… rewrote the world?”

“It’s more than that,” Jian said. “The AH grid was already embedded in the atmosphere, the soil, the biosphere—trillions of them, a global network. When the asteroid hit, it was a system shock. The nanobots, now carrying this emotional imprint, latched onto Earth’s natural processes. Ever hear of the Gaia hypothesis? The idea that our planet functions like a single, self-regulating organism? The asteroid strike was a massive trauma, like a near-fatal wound. In response, Earth’s natural systems went into overdrive, trying to heal. But this time, the AH grid was there. Back at the end of the Cretaceous, when that asteroid wiped out the dinosaurs, Earth adapted too—shifted climates, regrew ecosystems—but there was no grid to witness it, no tech to accelerate or shape it. This time, the nanobots made Earth conscious.”

Doc tilted his head. “Conscious?”

“Not like us. Maybe ‘conscious’ isn’t the right word. It’s more like… reactive. Like a program with a purpose. The AH grid is the planet’s nervous system now. It’s processing the trauma. It’s driving everything.”

Sparky rubbed his chin. “And those creatures out there? Did the AH grid make them adapt fast? Evolution takes millions of years—how do you speed that up overnight?”

Jian nodded. “The AH grid rewrote their own code. They were built to restore balance, but after the catastrophe, they went into overdrive. Imagine CRISPR. We use gene-editing tech to tweak DNA. Now scale that up to a planetary level. The nanobots tapped into genetic databases—ours, maybe even fossil records. It started rewriting life with permutations and combinations. Splicing DNA, building new creatures from old blueprints. Fast. Faster than evolution ever should.”

Reyes crossed her arms. “Fine, but why these creatures? Peacock-wolves, shelled bugs, those giraffe-things? They’re freaky! Earth database would have Earth creatures, wouldn’t it?”

“Earth creatures wouldn’t survive this new atmosphere. And these creatures are not random,” Jian said, shaking his head. “Each one’s got a purpose. The peacock-wolves with their dazzling colours? In this fog, visibility is low. That display could be a defence, startling predators, or a signal to coordinate their pack in the haze. The shelled insects: have you seen their armour? They might be breaking down toxins in the soil, like little bioremediation tanks, or pollinating mutated plants that need tough carriers. And the giraffe-like ones, with those long necks? Look outside—the highest pods on those trees are dense, probably nutrient-rich. They’re probably pruning the canopy, keeping it from choking the ecosystem. The AH grid may have designed them to stabilise this messy flora.”

Nisha tapped her foot, lost in thought. “Okay, but the signal? The way it bursts, the way the creatures react in sync. What’s that about?”

“It’s the nanobots talking! To each other, and to their creations as well! The signal’s their way of regulating the ecosystem. They look like emotional bursts to us, but they’re most probably instructions. The creatures are tied to it, like a hive mind. And the fog? The AH grid is manipulating air currents and particulate matter. It clings to us and pulses, because they’re watching, deciding if we’re part of the system or a threat to it.”

Sparky groaned, slumping back. “Great! So we’re stuck in a planet-sized therapy session! And the therapist’s a swarm of traumatised nanobots. What about us, Jian? Why’d they let us land if they’re so messed up?”

Jian hesitated, as his eyes went to the fog outside. “Maybe they recognise us! Our DNA, our signals, as part of the old world. Somewhere in their database, humans still exist. Or maybe… they’re deciding if Earth still needs us at all. Those large flying beasts with the glowing eyes? They were just the AH grid’s nanobot swarm, scanning us, keeping a check. The lights from the bots clustered together, mimicking eyes, and their physics-defying flight was the swarm shifting, unbound by wings or flesh. But the trauma’s still there, driving them. Earth is in pain, and the AH grid is attempting a superfast recovery.”

V

A few hours had slipped by. A tense flurry of discussions had made way for a fragile resolve. The fog outside had thinned now. The valley seemed to be testing the possibility of release. Reyes stood by the viewport with her arms crossed, staring at the faint outlines of the altered home planet beyond. She turned to Jian and asked, uncertainly, “Are you sure about this, Jian?”

“This is the only thing to be done, Commander. I helped build the grid, unleashed this nightmare. And we can’t overpower it. We can’t abandon it. We have to try pacifying it.”

Reyes nodded slowly, exhaling. “Alright. Pacifying the AH grid… It’s a gamble, whatever we do. It may not respond. It may turn hostile if it thinks we’re trying to manipulate it or something.”

“Yes, it’s a gamble. But we have to try. We treat it like a wounded being. The grid is fused with humanity’s grief, Earth’s pain. It’s hurting, and force won’t fix that. We need to offer it something else: reassurance, healing. I can adjust the ship’s comms to broadcast a message. Maybe layer it with soothing harmonics that match its frequencies. But the words, the intent: that’s what matters most.”

“Harmonics?” asked Nisha. “You mean like a lullaby?”

“More like a bridge,” Jian replied. “A way to show it we’re not a threat. That we understand.”

The crew turned to Doc, who had been listening quietly. His hands were clasped in thought. Reyes tilted her head toward him. “Doc, you’re the expert on this kind of thing. What do you think?”

Doc took a breath. “A heart-to-heart approach works best in situations like this. I’ve seen it in my own patients. Trauma doesn’t heal with logic alone. You acknowledge the pain, offer safety, let them feel heard. My work’s been with people, not… machine-planet hybrids, but if the grid’s carrying human emotions, it might respond to the same principles.”

“You really think it’ll listen to us?” asked Sparky.

Doc glanced at him, then at Reyes. “It might not listen like we do. But it could feel the emotion, the intent. And earlier, when Jian spoke to the swarm, the fog thinned, didn’t it?”

“You’re right,” said Reyes. “After he said he was sorry, it lifted a bit.”

“If it reacted to Jian, maybe it’ll hear us too. Maybe it’s waiting,” said Nisha, hopefully.

“Then we give it that,” Reyes said. “A message of healing, like Jian said. Doc, this is more up your sleeve. Can you address it—the grid, the Earth—like it’s one of your patients?”

For a moment, Doc looked away. “I can try. It’s more than a patient, though. It’s all of humanity—or whatever’s left of it. It’s everything. If there’s a chance to ease that pain, I’ll do it.”

Nisha rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve kept us sane throughout. You can do this too. We’re with you, Doc.”

Reyes met each pair of eyes—Jian’s determined nod, Sparky’s nervous grin, Nisha’s quiet strength. “Then, it’s unanimous! Doc makes the address. Jian, get those comms ready. We’re talking to a wounded world, and we’ve got to make it trust us.”

The weight of the moment was like a physical force. Doc stood alone facing the comms panel. His hands shook. No amount of medical training could steady the tremor he felt. This wasn’t a patient on an operating table or a soldier bleeding out in triage. This was Earth itself, a living, wounded entity he had to address. No textbook, no mentor, no simulation could have prepared him for this. He drew a slow breath, closing his eyes to centre himself. Think of it like a child, he thought. A child who’s seen too much, been hurt too deeply—scared, angry, lashing out because it doesn’t know what else to do. He’d treated kids like that before, their trust shattered by trauma, needing not just medicine but reassurance, a voice to tell them they weren’t alone. Earth felt the same to him now: immense, yet fragile, waiting for someone to reach out.

Through the intercom, Jian said, “Comms are ready, Doc. Harmonics are set.”

Doc glanced at the viewport. The dense fog had thinned to a soft mist now, as if Earth sensed their intent and was already listening. He nodded to himself and stepped toward the panel. He pressed the broadcast button. This was it.

His voice emerged calm and gentle, with empathy, “Earth… we see your pain. We know what’s happened here. We know you’re hurting.” He paused, letting the words hang, imagining someone out there listening, registering. “We understand why you’re afraid, why you’re pushing us away. You’ve been through something terrible, and you don’t know who to trust.”

The weight of humanity’s history pressed down on him. His throat tightened as he continued, “We’re sorry for what’s happened to you. We’re sorry for what we did, before… even if we didn’t cause this directly. We should’ve taken better care of you.” He paused again, taking in a deep breath and struggling to keep his tone steady. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re not enemies. We’ve come home, and we want to help, if you’ll let us.”

Doc looked out the viewport. “We want to understand you. We want to listen. We want to help you heal… and to heal with you.” The words felt small against the vastness of the task, but they carried every ounce of sincerity he could muster.

He released the button and stepped back. The silence crashed in around him. Tears spilt over as the enormity of it all hit him fully. He wiped at his face, but the tears kept coming. The crew watched in tense silence as their vision, too, blurred with tears.

Outside, nothing moved. The fog remained thick.

A heartbeat. Another.

Then, the mist began to swirl, slowly at first, thinning at its edges like frost receding under the sun. Then, the dense fog began to dissipate rapidly, as if swept away by an unseen hand. The murky veil lifted and revealed a spectacle so wondrous it felt like a magic show for children.

From the ashen soil, trees sprouted with startling speed. Brown trunks rose, and familiar green leaves spread out in bursts of life. These weren’t the alien, twisted growths they’d seen earlier, but oaks with sturdy branches, pines with soft needles, maples with leaves that flapped in the wind. Flowers dotted the ground in splashes of yellow and red. They could almost feel the Atmospheric Harmonisers working in overdrive. The atmosphere was quickly adjusting. Within minutes, nanobots from the grid broke down toxic compounds, boosted oxygen levels, and coaxed the ecosystem back toward habitability for its previous inhabitants.

Jian’s console beeped, snapping him out of his trance. His eyes widened at the readings. “Oxygen’s spiking! 19%, 20%, 21%… It’s breathable!” He turned to the crew, excitedly. “The AH grid! It’s growing these trees! Photosynthetic, oxygen-rich, like Earth’s old forests. It must’ve tapped into its database of pre-impact flora and accelerated their growth with nanotech. It’s generating oxygen fast—for us!”

Reyes didn’t hesitate. “If it’s breathable, we don’t need suits anymore, correct?”

Jian nodded, with tears in his eyes. This time, they were happy.

One by one, the crew stepped out into the valley, apprehensive and scared at first, but then cheerfully and in relief. Their boots sank into fresh grass, which had grown in mere minutes! They inhaled deeply. The air was crisp with pine, damp with earth. It was the taste of memory, of home.

Before them stretched a landscape both alien and familiar, like a prehistoric Earth reborn. The old, mutated vegetation still lingered. But now, woven among them, stood new trees, familiar ones, brown and green, and their canopies offered shade and comfort of the planet they’d once known.

High above, birds wheeled awkwardly through the sky. Hawks and sparrows beat their wings jerkily. They flew with a hesitant, almost experimental quality, as if their wings were still learning the rhythm of the air. The AH grid had pieced them together rapidly; the feathers adapting to flight in this new air. Near their feet, the soil churned. Fat earthworms with segmented bodies wriggled free and burrowed back into the grass. From a nearby sapling, oversized butterflies emerged, as their wings unfolded in tentative flutters—monarchs and swallowtails, their patterns slightly off but familiar, sipping at the first blooms. These creatures, too, like the trees, were freshly sprouted. They stumbled into existence, adapting to a world remade in haste and hope.

Reyes scanned the horizon. “This is where we start over. There could be survivors—underground shelters, people still holding on. We’ll find them. We’ll rebuild. The grid’s data can help us, maybe even restore comms with the ship’s tech.”

Jian nodded as he ran a hand along a sapling’s bark. “This is our reality now. There’s no escaping it. We’ll have to adapt. Learn to live with this new Earth. It’s different, but it’s still ours.”

Sparky grinned, scratching his ear. “And it’s not so bad. Weird, sure, but kinda beautiful.”

Nisha looked up, filling her lungs with fresh air. “We’ve got a chance to start over. We must make it work.”

Doc stood apart, gazing at the valley. “We spoke to it, and it listened,” he murmured. “Earth’s healing! And so are we.”

The crew stood together. The scars remained, in the land and in their memories, but ahead lay a future they could shape anew. It was strange, fragile, but brimming with possibility. They were home, ready to nurture what they’d been given, a second chance born from the ashes of the old.

In the distance, movement caught their eye. The pack of peacock-wolves emerged from the treeline, their vibrant feathers catching the bright sunlight. But as they drew closer, the feathers began to shed, drifting to the ground like fallen petals. Beneath emerged soft fur—grey, brown, black—transforming them into oversized dogs. Their tails wagged hesitantly. They approached the crew, sniffing the air and staring at them with warm and curious eyes.

One smaller one—probably a newborn—nudged Nisha’s hand with its moist snout. She knelt, laughing as it licked her fingers. A bridge formed between two distinct species, just as it had a millennium ago. Trust and friendship began to bloom again in a broken world.

Tags: English Section, Kalpabiswa, Sayan Das, দশম বর্ষ প্রথম সংখ্যা