There was silence in space.
The total, shattering kind of silence that made a person's thoughts seem too loud within their own head, not the tranquil kind that people glorified.
Outside the Artemis-4's reinforced viewport, the ice planet spun slowly, a bleak white orb encircled by storms that twisted around and around like coiled eels. The coolness emanating from it felt almost alive, and its atmosphere shimmered with refracted light. The scientists on board thought it was stunning. It was suspicious to the authorities. They all saw it as a mystery that had lain unsolved for thousands, if not millions, of years.
“Planet Glacien X,” she whispered, reading the name on the HUD reflection. "Unmapped." Unclaimed. unaltered.
The words were swallowed by silence.
Elias gave a snort. "Commanders tell persuasive lies. The same thing"
“You think there’s life down there,” Mira said. It wasn’t a question.
“I know there is,” Elias replied, eyes sparkling. “Even if it’s just microbes. Our LifeScope scans already picked up trace signatures. It may be extreme, but life always finds a foothold.”
Mira tapped her fingers against her forearm. “Microbes are harmless. You’re hoping for something more.”
Elias hesitated.
“Yes,” he admitted softly. “Something bigger. Something that adapts to survive in conditions that kill everything else. Something that pushes our understanding of biology.”
She finally looked at him. “And something that could kill us?”
Elias opened his mouth, closed it again, then sighed.
“It’s possible,” he said. “But unlikely. No large organisms detected. No heat signatures. Nothing above microscopic scale.”
Mira nodded slowly.
“Still…” she murmured, “I can’t shake the feeling that we’re walking into someone else’s territory.”
Elias grinned. “That’s why we brought Aria. She loves shooting things.”
Mira exhaled sharply. “That’s what worries me. Give her a shadow and she’ll fire three rounds before it moves.”
Before Elias could reply, the intercom crackled.
“Captain Solis, report to the armory. Final briefing in ten.”
Mira straightened. “Duty calls,” she said, brushing past him.
“Hey, Mira,” Elias called after her. “You’ll be wearing the suit today, right? The cold-resistant one?”
She rolled her eyes.
“The white-and-blue? Yes. It’s mandatory.”
“Good,” he said with a grin. “It matches your cold personality.”
Mira didn’t turn—but he heard her soft laugh as the door shut behind her.
The mechanical beat of exo-suits charging filled the armoury.
The walls were lined with rows of armour parts that were connected to diagnostic rigs in shades of white, silver, and metallic-blue. As internal systems booted, servos clicked, chest plates automatically tightened, and helmet visors gleamed dimly.
Aria Voss was already fully suited, helmet in hand, pacing like a caged animal. With tactical shoulder lights, strengthened plate, and an ion blade fastened to her thigh, her armour weighed more than the others. She looked like she was ready to fight the entire planet itself.
“Captain,” she acknowledged as Mira entered. “Suit check is ready.”
“Any issues?” Mira asked.
“Suit integrity is at one hundred percent,” Aria replied. “Temperature regulation perfect. Weapon systems green. And I’m bored.”
Mira raised an eyebrow. “We haven’t even landed yet.”
“Exactly. I came here to explore, not watch clouds swirl for hours.”
Jonah Redd, crouched beside a mechanical crate, muttered, “Some of us came here hoping for a calm mission.”
Aria smirked. “Calm is for retirement homes.”
Jonah looked up at her with a sarcastic grin. “Please retire then.”
Mira hid her amusement by checking her suit clamps.
Soren Hale—medical officer and Elias’s older brother—entered with a datapad in hand, scanning Mira’s armor.
“Vitals stable. Oxygen recycler functional,” Soren said. “If your heart rate spikes again I’ll assume it’s stress.”
“It’s always stress with her,” Jonah joked.
Mira’s visor flashed to life. “Pilot update?”
Kade Rhyse slid into the room, helmet tucked under his arm and hair a mess as always.
“We’re clear to launch the shuttle anytime. Weather patterns are stable enough for descent,” he reported. “Visibility might drop, but nothing I can’t handle.”
Aria snorted. “Last time you said that, we hit an asteroid fragment.”
“That was an accident,” Kade protested.
“That was incompetence,” Aria corrected.
Kade rolled his eyes dramatically. “I don’t shoot asteroids. You don’t fly ships. Everyone has a role.”
“Enough,” Mira cut in, though lightly. “We land, we build the base, we collect samples. No heroics.”
She looked specifically at Aria.
“No shooting unless absolutely necessary.”
Aria clicked her tongue. “Sure. I’ll holster my enthusiasm.”
Before Mira could respond, the door opened again—Elias walked in, fastening the last plates of his slim suit, pulling his green-coded visor over his eyes.
“Alright team,” he said cheerfully, “shall we go find something?”
Aria groaned. “He’s too excited. Someone stop him.”
Jonah stood, sealing his yellow engineer suit. “If we actually find something, I’m quitting.”
Elias smirked. “Noted.”
Mira stepped forward.
Her voice softened—but only slightly.
“Listen carefully. Glacien X is unpredictable. No matter what scans say, nature can be deceptive. Stay close, stay watchful, stay alive.”
One by one, the team nodded.
The descent to Glacien X began with a thunderous roar.
The landing craft detached from the Artemis-4, its engines flaring blue as it plunged through the upper atmosphere. Snow particles burst against the hull like tiny meteors.
As the craft was shaken by turbulence, the personnel inside gripped to their seats, their visors trembling.
“Altitude stable,” Kade announced, hands moving with precise fluidity across holographic controls. “Temperature dropping fast. Hull temperature compensating. Angle steady.”
“Storm ahead,” Aria warned, watching her tactical display. “Particle density rising.”
“It’s just light turbulence,” Kade replied.
A violent jolt threw everyone sideways.
“LIGHT?!” Jonah shouted. “THIS FEELS LIKE BEING INSIDE A SNOWBLENDER!”
Mira braced herself. Elias laughed nervously. Soren muttered a prayer under his breath.
The storm finally thinned, and the landing craft broke through the lower clouds.
A breathtaking landscape revealed itself:
Flat plains of white stretching endlessly.
Jagged ice formations rising like the bones of ancient beasts.
Wind sweeping across the surface in spiraling patterns.
It looked peaceful.
Deceptively peaceful.
Kade lowered them gently onto a stable plateau.
“Ground contact,” he confirmed. “Welcome to Glacien X.”
The ship settled with a heavy thud. A moment of silence followed.
Everyone sat still, listening to their own heartbeats inside their helmets.
“You feel that?” Aria murmured.
“Feel what?” Jonah asked.
“Vibration,” Aria said, tapping her boot lightly. “Barely noticeable.”
Mira tested it too.
Yes. A faint tremor. So faint that no alarms triggered.
“Could be the planet shifting,” Elias offered.
“Or something moving,” Aria suggested.
Soren shot her a look. “Nothing alive down there. Elias confirmed.”
Aria’s visor dimmed. “We’ll see.”
Mira unsealed the hatch.
Mist swirled inward like breath taken from the planet itself as cold white light poured into the vessel. The first step upon Glacien X was like entering an ancient, silent, and pleasant extraterrestrial cemetery.
Their boots sank a few centimeters into powdery snow.
The air was thick and sharp, crystals dancing in the wind.
Elias knelt, scooping up a handful of snow through his suit’s thermal glove. “Magnificent. The purity of this ice—clearly undisturbed for thousands of years.”
He scanned with his LifeScope module.
Tiny green dots glowed.
“Microbial life,” he confirmed. “But no large organisms. Nothing bigger than a fingernail.”
Aria scanned the horizon. “So far.”
Mira ignored the tension.
“Build the base,” she ordered.
Jonah and Kade activated the portable structures, panels unfolding into metallic curves. Aria stood guard, sentinel-like, watching every shadow. Soren set up the medical station with practiced efficiency.
The white planet watched them back.
Still. Unmoving.
But beneath that stillness, the faintest tremor pulsed again—short, subtle, almost gentle.
Elias didn’t notice.
Aria did.
“What the hell is that,” she said under her breath.
Mira turned. “Report?”
Aria hesitated. Just for a moment.
“It’s probably nothing,” she admitted.
But the way the ice responded—just slightly—was wrong. Not natural. Not environmental.
It was rhythmic.
Like the breathing of something sleeping deep beneath the ground.
Mira checked her visor time. “We need sample cores before the storm returns. Elias, take the northern ridge. Vincent will—”
“On it,” Vincent said, stepping out of the craft and loading his long-range scanner.
The team began to spread out.
The wind howled.
The horizon dimmed.
Faint tremors pulsed again.
Beneath them, far below the surface, something stirred.
Not awake.
Not fully.
But aware.
And as the humans moved across the surface, their footsteps echoed through layers of ancient ice—vibrations traveling deep into the planet’s frozen veins.
Something down there…
…heard them.
And for the first time in centuries, it moved.
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