Each halting footstep breaks through a bubbly-textured crust, then sinks into a layer of mud which oozes over the edge of his boots, before they rest on solid ground. The terrain is formed into round hillocks and mounds, like it had been baked. Izor can't help but compare it to pudding.Pudding, alive with reactive minerals and unidentified energy fluctuations. A fuel source?
With an affirmative gesture to his comrades, Izor readies his hand-held scanners and continues his slow progress on the foreign world.
Dotted throughout the landscape are pale green plants with spear-like leaves in star-burst patterns. Between the crags are skeins of finger-long, ice-blue crystals, like Darskov's fertile plant patches which flourish in micro-climates.
Except for his team, consisting of himself, five science officers and twenty androids gingerly spreading out from the drilling ships, not a creature stirs. In the distance are green ponds, ringed with exotic flora.
We're not living here. His scanners show toxic gasses, along with an unstable magnetic resonance."
Meanwhile, General Huascar and his remaining Advisers watch from Gamma Base's screens...
"Some team members are approaching the ponds. The marsh plants have purple fronds that flutter as the team passes. Deeper into the pond are nodding, spiky black orbs suspended on bunches of red stalks.
Though the preliminary read from the ships had reported no animal life of consequence, Huascar keeps expecting such a vibrant land to scamper and crawl with denizens. Yet, as the team wades the shallows, cutting and collecting samples as they go, nothing is disturbed – no challenge is issued. He notices that large bubbles are bursting the soupy pond's skin. He can't figure why, but this strikes him as ominous. The dripping vials lifted from its murky depths are filled with opaque, emerald green fluid.
Just then, the bubbles on the screen he's watching seem to change frequency. The space between pops – shortening?
Huascar drops his arms [from being crossed over his chest] and turns to his Advisers to confirm.
Finday's hazel eyes dart between several screens. “The bubbles are getting faster,” he says.
Stav adds in a hushed tone, “They're synchronizing."”
With an affirmative gesture to his comrades, Izor readies his hand-held scanners and continues his slow progress on the foreign world.
Dotted throughout the landscape are pale green plants with spear-like leaves in star-burst patterns. Between the crags are skeins of finger-long, ice-blue crystals, like Darskov's fertile plant patches which flourish in micro-climates.
Except for his team, consisting of himself, five science officers and twenty androids gingerly spreading out from the drilling ships, not a creature stirs. In the distance are green ponds, ringed with exotic flora.
We're not living here. His scanners show toxic gasses, along with an unstable magnetic resonance."
Meanwhile, General Huascar and his remaining Advisers watch from Gamma Base's screens...
"Some team members are approaching the ponds. The marsh plants have purple fronds that flutter as the team passes. Deeper into the pond are nodding, spiky black orbs suspended on bunches of red stalks.
Though the preliminary read from the ships had reported no animal life of consequence, Huascar keeps expecting such a vibrant land to scamper and crawl with denizens. Yet, as the team wades the shallows, cutting and collecting samples as they go, nothing is disturbed – no challenge is issued. He notices that large bubbles are bursting the soupy pond's skin. He can't figure why, but this strikes him as ominous. The dripping vials lifted from its murky depths are filled with opaque, emerald green fluid.
Just then, the bubbles on the screen he's watching seem to change frequency. The space between pops – shortening?
Huascar drops his arms [from being crossed over his chest] and turns to his Advisers to confirm.
Finday's hazel eyes dart between several screens. “The bubbles are getting faster,” he says.
Stav adds in a hushed tone, “They're synchronizing."”