The Icefields of Vaylen-3 were endless, shifting masses of frozen methane. Dr. Solen, a xeno-geologist, had spent months drilling samples, searching for ancient microbial fossils. Alone in his thermal pod, he transmitted data back to the orbital station—until the ice beneath him cracked.
The pod lurched, sinking into a cavernous void. Lights flickered as instruments failed. Then, movement—something coiled beneath the ice, vast and slow. Desperate, Solen tapped into reserves, flooding the pod’s speakers with rhythmic pulses. A response came: deep, resonant vibrations.
The ice stilled. His pod, impossibly, drifted upward. As he broke the surface, a final pulse reverberated—an acknowledgment.
Rescued days later, Solen’s report omitted the truth. He had come looking for remnants of life. Instead, life had found him.
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