Drifting to an Alien Planet for a Slow Life After a Mutual Kill with the Enemy - Chapter 8

Morning light, diffused by the optical filter on Uranus’s head casing, streamed across the cockpit. The transparent projection walls automatically adjusted their light and shadow, mimicking the natural brightness outside and allowing Lysander to observe his first morning on this alien planet.
This was the first true ‘dawn’ he’d ever witnessed on an exoplanet—light that didn’t come from artificial bulbs on a ship’s hull, but that filtered through a real, substantial atmosphere.
“External radiation concentration is below 0.01. Wind speed is three point eight meters per second, temperature is twenty-one degrees. Humidity is seventy-eight percent,” Uranus reported. Its voice was steady, slightly metallic, yet somehow warm. Over the years, the AI had learned to tailor its tone to match Lysander’s mental state.
“Confirmed,” Lysander responded, his voice flat. His hand swept the suspended interface, which displayed a 3D structural map of the forest: giant, seventy-meter-tall trees forming a dense, multi-layered canopy. The ground was tangled with creeping vines and moss, and biological heat signatures were scattered everywhere.
“Area density is one hundred and thirty percent higher than Earth’s equatorial jungles,” Uranus added.
“Even the trees fight each other for sun,” Lysander murmured, his voice thick with a quiet astonishment he was trying to suppress.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen ‘green’. In the Logos Federation, plants were a symbol of luxury and power—cultivated in glass showcases, their temperature and humidity constantly micro-managed, every leaf a calculation. Yet now, the screen showed an uncontrollable, incalculable world of raw, vibrant green. For Lysander, who knew plant life only from images, the scene felt almost sacred.
“Uranus, log this: The external environment is suitable for human habitation, but the biological density exceeds safety standards. Further resource development and management will be required.”
“Logged. Further analysis of hydrological and ecological samples is now underway.”
Uranus extended a sensor from its forearm. The metal shell opened, and six micro-drones slowly deployed. They cast a sweeping red light, gliding silently through the forest. Half an hour later, the data stream returned to the cockpit: extremely high moisture content, gas composition near standard atmosphere, and an oxygen concentration seven percent higher than on Earth.
“Oxygen is high,” Lysander noted. “Long-term direct exposure would accelerate metabolism and cellular aging.”
“Segmented adaptation is advised,” Uranus replied. “I have set the respiratory filter to regulation mode, diluting the external air before inputting it into the cockpit.”
The main display split. The left side showed a scan of the river system—blue lines snaking through the dense forest like bl00d vessels.
“Water source is seventeen kilometers from the current position, preliminarily judged as fresh water. Surface temperature sixteen degrees. No high concentrations of heavy metals or radioactive materials were detected.”
“Excellent,” Lysander whispered. “That will be our primary exploration route. All life needs water; this planet is likely no different.” He clasped his hands together and stretched his back slightly. The muscle stiffness left over from long-term cryostasis hadn’t fully vanished, but he was long used to it.
“Uranus, we are ready to move.”
“Confirmed. Gravity parameters have been incorporated into the mobility module.”
The massive machine slowly stood up. The forest treetops swayed with the machine’s movement, and sunlight filtered through the gaps, casting dancing patterns of light across Uranus’s metallic surface.
Each footstep caused a subtle, audible tremor in the ground. Lysander felt that vibration and found it deeply strange—there was no such thing as ‘soft’ ground in the Logos Federation, so this sensation was genuinely novel.
“Multiple large life-form heat sources detected at the eleven o’clock position,” Uranus warned.
The screen zoomed in: a pack of wolf-like creatures moving along the riverbank. They were twice the size of an Earth wolf, with dark grey fur and glowing blue eyes.
“Log as L-4X–09–α wolf-type organism, temporary designation W-Type-03.”
“Confirmed.” Uranus immediately marked a red dot on the map.
“Multiple heat source clusters detected four kilometers to the right. Morphology: serpentine, average length five point three meters.”
“Mark as L-4X–09–S-Type-01, feature: stable infrared distribution, suspected of being social.”
“A predatory bird with a seven point one meter wingspan is in the airspace, speed three hundred and twenty kilometers per hour.”
“Log: L-4X–09–A-Type-02, temporarily classified as a high-level predator.”
“High thermal reaction discovered twenty kilometers to the south. Temperature fluctuation is highly abnormal.”
Lysander looked up, his brow slightly furrowed: “Fire-type?”
“Confirmed: Sample L-4X–09–F-Type-01, suspected flora. Leaf interiors generate instantaneous plasma discharge reactions. Energy source and mechanism cannot be determined.”
“…Log it. We’ll avoid it for now.” He fell silent. This planet’s biological system didn’t match any data he had. He hadn’t found civilization yet, but the place had highly adaptive life and some strange energy signatures. This made him both instinctively excited and deeply cautious.
“Uranus, start a biological database. Sort classifications by threat level.”
“Confirmed, database initialized.”
“Also, output the current area’s topographical structure into a layer, and mark all potential settlement zones.”
“Executing.”
The map slowly formed a stunning picture—complex surface layers made of dense green textures, like an organic neural network. Uranus’s analysis tags flickered throughout, showing the movement paths of every heat signature.
The air flowed calmly within the cockpit. The life support system began releasing trace amounts of local air, blending it with the artificial cabin atmosphere.
“Respiratory filter functioning normally. Oxygen concentration has been adjusted to the safe range,” Uranus reported.
Lysander took a deep breath. The air smelled humid and carried a faint resin scent—foreign, yet strangely comforting.
“Uranus.”
“Yes.”
“This smell is so real.”
“Reality itself is simply a composite of sensory input,” Uranus answered.
“Are you becoming a philosopher now?”
“Across the one thousand two hundred and seventy-six missions I have completed with you, I have deduced that ‘appropriate humor enhances pilot reaction stability’.”
“…I can’t argue with that logic.” Lysander smiled.
They moved along the river. The water’s surface flashed in the sun, reflecting a nearly blinding silver. Uranus occasionally used micro-thrusts to float over large boulders and fallen trees; the impact of its landing echoed through the woods.
“External noise transmission rate is sixty percent,” Uranus reported. “Acoustic waves show no echo. Hypothesis: the vegetation density is sufficient to absorb the majority of impact energy.”
“Does that mean we can move stealthily on the surface?”
“Partially stealthy.”
“Good.”
He watched the river stretch out toward the distant mist. The waterway felt like an invitation to delve into the unknown. He knew it meant danger, but it also meant the possibility of ‘discovery’.
A brief silence settled in the cockpit. Uranus gently adjusted the light output, softening the brightness inside. The exterior sunlight, filtered golden, shone upon the river ahead, reflecting a dazzling path of light.
Lysander raised his hand, his fingertip tracing the new course in the air.
“New objective: proceed west along the river. Search for any possible signs of intelligent life.”
“Understood.”
Uranus’s power spine began recharging. Its stride became steady as it moved forward. The machine shimmered softly under the sun, and inside the cockpit, a pair of cool, grey-blue eyes stared straight ahead—the look of humanity taking its very first step into an unknown world.