Sol Year by Patrick Hull
Sol year 5502, this is Arman Cambra, Head botanist aboard the Invictica scouting ship sent to Unoiks-228. It was meant to be 10 Sol-Standard years of setup to establish habitation and agricultural industry on this jungle infested planet. That has unfortunately fallen through, and it may be 12 Sol-standard years now to establish even a meager presence here. Our ship was either shot from the planet’s surface, or collided with orbital debris that evaded our planetary scans. If I am not mistaken, I was the only escape habitat to have landed deep towards the equator. The rest are reporting to be scattered far into the northern desert belt. Command has already been contacted to sent a reinforcement shuttle to continue our operations given the less-than-optimal start.
Sol year 5502 – 6 weeks since crash, Arman Cambra, Head botanist. I have so far catalogued much of the local flora to my habitat’s registry. Fauna remains scarce, though I scarcely care as that is not my field of expertise. Among the flora I have registered 72 unique specimens with valuable medicinal or nutritional properties, including a plant absurdly rich in both iron and calcium, for which I had to use an electric saw to harvest. However, I have been finding edible flora capable of fruiting to be notably bare. Either the local fauna is especially ravenous or these have been deliberately foraged.
Sol year 5502 – 10 weeks since crash, Arman Cambra, Head botanist. I have discovered, well, I have been discovered by distant human settlers. Their bodies are heavily specialized; their hands and feet show incredible levels of motor function and manipulation! Clearly adapted for traversal through the native trees or potentially for other ambidextrous functionality. I just wish they hadn’t used those qualities to crudely restrain me and attempt to access my habitat. Other notable features include heightened musculature and excess body hair… and odor. They were wearing light tops and heavier, jean-like pants with a variety of belts and pouches for storage, one had a holster for some kind of firearm. The clothing seemed to be made from plant-derived leather and fabrics. They seemed malnourished and searching for food given I had heard one of their stomachs growl. After they had given up and left, I freed myself and resumed duties. I should try to find the plant their clothes are made from…
Sol year 5502 – 21 weeks since crash, Arman Cambra, Head botanist. I have managed to create rudimentary greenhouses to experiment with the viability of useable flora. So far I have had mixed results. Much of the more practical flora is especially water intensive, and while it can thrive in the naturally humid atmosphere it struggles in the confines of my greenhouse. I have been leaving any edible byproduct outside in a bin to compost for future experimentation. I have been communicating results with the other habitats in the northern desert, though much of my research is of little use to them as they have explained the desert ecosystem to be dominated by fungi and fungal symbiotic fauna. They have sent me reports of their findings, which seem to suggest that the desert is expanding into the southern jungle and actively parasitizing flora and fauna within. Though most of the fungal species seem to be intolerant to high humidity, and remain mostly on the outskirts of the jungle, they asked if I could corroborate some of their findings on how the fungal species react to heat and flame by exploring the outskirt. I am reluctant to work with fungi, and was able to decline the offer without much issue.
Sol year 5502 – 24 weeks since crash, Arman Cambra, Head botanist. I had an encounter with the settlers. They can speak galactic standard English, though with some difficulty. Our first dialogue has been:
Native - “Thank you, for the forage, sorry we cannot trade.”
Cambra – “What forage? Have I given you something?”
I do not understand why they felt the need to thank me, until I noticed they had taken from the byproduct bin. Progress has been good on gauging flora viability. The calcium and iron rich specimen, hereby referred to Ferrustalk, grows extremely quick when provided with artificial light and proper soil and atmospheric conditions. Another excellent quality is the high seed density per crop of Ferrustalk, which poses good potential for splicing into a grain. I will continue work with Ferrustalk as a primary focus; I hope to cultivate it into a staple crop before the arrival of the reinforcement ship.
Sol year 5502 – 39 weeks since crash, Arman Cambra, Head botanist. Work with Ferrustalk has hit a wall. I do not have the manpower to engineer or build an industrial greenhouse to test how it would fare in our large-scale farms. I have documented what I can and have supported predictions that it would grow well, though without the ability to properly experiment I cannot verify or detect any potential oversights. I attempted to contact the settlement in the northern desert to request assistance in construction. I was told that my operations could not be supported due to the distance, and I was warned that I should avoid any fungal related organisms entirely, before contact was abruptly cut. The settlers have continued to take from my compost bin, and have been leaving me various trinkets and metal, seemingly steel tools. I will try to establish connection to see if I can organize a mutually beneficial project between us.
Sol year 5502 – 42 weeks since crash, Arman Cambra, Head botanist. The settlers are significantly more advanced than I had once assumed. After I asked the settlers how they got their tools in our most recent exchange, they have cautiously invited me to speak with their representatives in a township 6 kilometers from my habitat. Seeing as I have had my work with Ferrustalk on pause, now is a good opportunity to do a light expedition to document any other species of flora I may have missed while making the journey to the township. I tried to contact the northern desert habitats to inform them that I have found a potential alternative solution. I had my call answered by a sickly-looking engineer. His veins were abnormally visible and discolored, and he seemed to be suffering from jaundice on account of his yellow eyes. He did not respond to anything I said, he just stared at the camera before I eventually ended the call. I didn’t notice until I rewatched a recording of the call later that evening, but I don’t believe he was breathing, nor did he blink for the entire duration of the call. I’m still not sure what to make of the interaction.
Sol year 5502 – 43 weeks since crash, Arman Cambra, Head botanist. I am a bit lost for words. I’ve been led to a township with brick buildings, with well-trotted dirt roads. Most buildings are in a state of wear, or lacking maintenance. I now understand why they took from my bin. I have never seen the ravages of hunger, especially not on such a scale. I had hoped to see good manpower to bring back with me to work on my projects, but I only see sunken faces. Their town hall is comparatively well-maintained and has intricately carved pillars of some kind of green rock, peridotite I presume. I have spoken with the representative. They are industrialized, and can reliably albeit slowly manufacture steel and glass and have machinery to aid in most of the industrial processes. Though they show many of the requirements to build a mock industrial greenhouse, the population as it stands is unfit to work. They ask of me how I was able to grow food. I am reluctant to tell them of our ultimate goal on for this planet, but seeing as I have been deemed of less importance by the northern habitats, I will help them.
Sol year 5503 – 53 weeks since crash, Arman Cambra, Head botanist. Four days ago marked one year since arrival. With the help from the township, I have set up several indoor growing zones and crude greenhouses, hopefully isolated enough from any fungal infestation. I have decided to hold off on the project of industrial greenhouses until the residents are more capable. Our first crop of cultivated Ferrustalk was harvested two days ago. The stalk itself averages 4 meters, and includes several dense seed croppings at the tip with large rolling leaves branching from the stalk, not dissimilar from earth’s broccoli if given length and larger leaveswith a grain filled tip. The residents have made good use of it, though they called it Milktint, on account of the vibrant white inside the stalk. They have made many dishes with it so far, morale is improving greatly. One of their children thanked me. I enjoyed the gesture. I questioned the representative on why their agricultural efforts were struggling. I have been informed that several strains of fungal parasites and symbiotes have been ravaging their efforts to cultivate anything, and fungal symbiotes have been attacking their foraging parties. I asked where I could sample some of the invasive fungi to produce a countermeasure to them. They led me on the walls of a crude palisade bordering the northern side of the town, where I saw several small homes and large fields overgrown with sprawling fungal veins. Beyond the fields I saw a clearing leading into the northern desert, and large spider-like fauna adorned with sprouts darting between large, tubular fungal growths. I don’t think I am qualified to combat this.
Sol year 5503 – 79 weeks since crash, Arman Cambra, Head botanist. I have relocated my habitat into the township. Work has begun on the first mock industrial greenhouse. As I am still waiting, I have begun teaching botany to adults and children that show interest. I have to admit however; I am using them to expand my research into flora other than Ferrustalk and to find countermeasures to the fungal invasion. Though, I am glad some of the children are as enthused about flora as I am. The standing leadership have offered me a role as a head of agricultural development, unfortunately I cannot accept due to policy. The adults have begun inviting me into their homes to eat bread made from the Ferrustalk grains. I think I will accept one of their offers. I attempted to contact the northern habitats again, but only received Blackbox recordings. I do not wish to discuss what I saw, or the state of the northern habitats. I will have to warn the reinforcement to deploy biohazard specialists to reclaim the northern habitats. Sadly, I am reminded of what will happen to this town when the reinforcement arrives. I’ll have to remember to scrub any mention of this when I am briefed, but during my last planetary deployment, I was made to do soil analysis. One of the discoveries I made, and was told to disregard, was the high content of elements commonly associated with human remains found in almost all soil samples I tested. Though this could have been passed off ascommon animal remains, the mass grave I later found could not. I fear whatever happened on that planet will repeat here.
Sol year 5503 – 92 weeks since crash, Arman Cambra, Head botanist. It will soon be the second year here. Work on the first industrial greenhouse is mostly done. I have begun operations on further cultivating Ferrustalk alongside some other crop candidates within. The crops that the township has been cultivating with my supervision have bolstered food stores acceptably. I no longer find sunken faces, I only see smiling ones. Additionally, I have taken advantage of the broad fungal weakness to excess humidity, and have made a fungicide with help from the settlers. The fields and homes beyond the palisade have been reclaimed. Addressing the fungal fauna was significantly easier, following the inquiry from the northern habitats I discovered fire was effective in immobilizing symbiotes for extermination by putting them into a defensive coma, even if it did not kill by itself. I am quite proud of the efforts being made. Though, I have become increasingly anxious over the plans for this planet. I will have to
make a request of the company when the reinforcement arrives, it should be sometime in the second year. I wish no harm to these people. Unfortunately, the only option to spare them from the operations that will occur is to formally employ and grant them citizenship. I have spoken at length about our operations with the representatives. They are admittedly anxious and reluctant, but ultimately agreed for me to make the request. This will be a minor infraction for requesting such on my behalf, but I believe it justified. I will present their efforts towards my projects as merit for their incorporation.
Sol year 5504 – 118 weeks since crash, Arman Cambra, Head botanist. I have been contacted by the reinforcement ship in orbit. They are reluctant to land until they have ascertained the cause of the prior crash. They are also ascertaining the state of the northern habitats, and have questioned me why they cannot establish contact with them. I have sent them my documentation, several samples of the cultivated flora, the northern Blackbox data, and a formal request to employ and grant citizenship to all those within the town. I feel unwell. I worry for what will happen if my request is denied. I am reminded of the uncountable remains I unearthed on my last deployment. I have made a connection I’ve never had with the people here. I know their names, I know their ambitions, their practices. I must stay strong for them. I will help them.
Sol year 5504 – 135 weeks since crash, 4 weeks since establishment, Arman Cambra, Lead agriculturist. My request was accepted. I was also promoted to higher standing due to my efforts, though I do not care as much for that. I was initially reprimanded for the suggestion, before the fate of the northern habitats was discovered. The company welcomed the settlers to replace the positions left by those in the north. Shortly after the ship landed, biohazard crews managed to reclaim the northern habitats. I was told that there was a breach by something large that resulted in a pandemic. Following this I was asked why the settlers hadn’t suffered similar infections from the symbiotes. Medical evaluation showed the settlers had some immunity to the fungal strains from the north. This accelerated vaccine production, and was one of the reasons I was promoted other than my work with Ferrustalk. Apart from that, I have continued my efforts in combating the fungal invasion, and have been negotiating between the
corporate architects and town representatives on how construction for the first city will go. It has been exhausting. Though, the future appears bright, and I will work hard to make sure it remains so.
The Color of Silence by Jesalyn Rodriguez
“An exchange student… to another planet? Me?” Alice asked, a smile spreading across her face. Across the dinner table, her mom watched her with a gentle, forced smile.
“They said you, Alice, were chosen from your school,” her mom replied monotonically.
When Alice first heard about the Interworld Cultural Program, it sounded like something out of a dream, and so did her friends.
“You’re going to meet aliens!” one shouted. “Bring me back something that glows!”
Alice laughed at the excitement, promising she would. But that night, lying awake, she couldn’t stop wondering what awaited her in the other world.
Alice didn’t know what to expect until she stepped off the transport ship. The silence was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. The air shimmered faintly, humming as her breath brushed it. Above her, the sky felt close enough to touch, a stark contrast to Earth’s familiar horizon. Beneath her feet, the normally dark purple floor glowed pale pink with every step, as if the planet were tasting her presence.
At the base of the ramp, five aliens waited. Their iridescent skin shifted through colors, green, blue, pink, and gold. No one spoke. Alice smiled and waved, the gesture familiar and safe.
“Hi!” she called brightly.
The nearest alien’s colors flashed bright scarlet, then dulled to white. One pressed a hand to its temple.
“Oh,” Alice muttered, lowering her hand. “Am I too loud?”
The tallest alien tilted its head, and for a fleeting moment, she swore she felt a soft, unsure thought brush against her mind: Sound hurts.
That was how her cultural program began. The Academy of Light was nothing like any school on Earth. Transparent bubbles drifted in clusters, hovering above the glowing ground. Some were as small as rooms; others stretched far and wide. They shimmered like soap bubbles, but unlike Earthly ones, they never popped. When Alice stepped through the first bubble, it parted soundlessly and sealed behind her. The air inside pressed gently against her skin, like a soft hug from the world itself. She knew this experience would stay with her forever.
Classes were the hardest adjustment. The teachers seemed to “speak”, but their mouths never moved an inch, and the room stayed painfully quiet; an occasional rumbling from Alice’s stomach would be heard. At first, she thought the lessons were delivered entirely through thoughts, but even then, something felt off. Every so often, she felt a faint tickle near her ears, like a sound too high or too low to fully understand. The other students reacted to the noise, their colors shifting and communicating with it, while she sat there, clueless, as if listening to a language composed of pure ultrasound rather than words. Classes dragged by, and Alice realized it wasn’t silence. Not really. It was something happening on a wavelength humans like her couldn’t understand, like the lyrics of a song played underwater. And though she didn’t understand it yet, the feeling that she was missing an entire layer and understanding of their world gnawed at her with every passing lesson.
After exhausting, nearly impossible lessons, Alice wandered into The Listening Garden. The bubble was alive with soft lights, and the plants bent gracefully toward the floor, their vines curling and weaving around one another. The warmth in the air made her chest ache with homesickness, a quiet reminder of sunlight on Earth. She sank onto the smooth floor, letting the hum of the garden seep into her bones.
A faint shimmer caught her eye. Among the drooping vines stood Luma, their skin a soft gradient of peach and gold, glowing faintly in the filtered light. They tilted their head, as though listening to a thought she hadn’t yet spoken. You are tired, came the gentle voice inside her mind.
Alice blinked in surprise. “How did you know?”
Luma’s color deepened, swirling like sunlight through water. Your mind hums faster than ours. It is loud, even when you are quiet.
Alice laughed softly, sitting back as the vines above swayed like sleepy guardians. “Do you ever get tired of all this silence?”
Luma folded their long fingers in their lap. Silence is not empty. It holds what sound cannot.
For a long time, they stayed like that, one glowing, one breathing, the garden around them humming softly as if it understood.
Alice began to notice what she hadn’t before: the way the plants’ glow synchronized with their breathing, the soft rhythm of color around her. Silence didn’t mean empty. It meant life, presence, and understanding.
A small smile curved her lips. “You know… I think I’m starting to hear it. The silence.” The plants' glow brightened, as if answering her.
“If silence can speak,” she whispered, “then maybe sound can listen.” She pulled her small music player from her pocket and gently placed it on the floor between them.
Music was something that Alice treasured on Earth. It was the one thing she brought across planets, hoping it could speak for her when she didn’t have the words. It was something she hoped would weave her life and Luma’s together for just a moment.
Luma’s glow flickered a soft orange. Alice understood; curiosity and cautiousness radiated from them based on their colors. She pressed play. At first, a single, trembling note drifted into the garden, barely louder than a sigh. The vines lifted slightly, their faint light pulsing with the rhythm. Luma’s colors shifted, moving through gold, pink, and lavender in gentle waves, as if the music were feeding them.
Alice watched, heart tight with wonder. “Do you like it?” she whispered.
A part of her felt worried; she did not want her newfound friend to dislike what she presented. She internally manifested the unity of her kind with others; she knew that they weren’t so different after all. Luma’s colors brightened. It feels alive… it feels like you, came the thought, warm and slow. Alice’s body felt relieved, knowing the curiosity of each other’s kind was mutual. A smile crept onto her face, and her heart warmed. Music wasn’t something that could just make noise; it could weave sound and silence together until even their difference felt the same.
The note faded into a soft, lingering hum. The garden seemed to hold it, wrapping around them both like a living, comforting presence. Luma reached out, and their hand brushed Alice’s. It felt cool, glowing faintly, and it carried understanding beyond words. Alice breathed in, suddenly aware of her human differences next to Luma. She was held together by her heartbeat, her skin and bones made her human. Luma was a being created of light and color. Yet, Luma’s touch didn’t make her feel any less of an individual; it made her feel an equality she had never felt.
Luma’s color shifted into a soft blue, reminding Alice of calm skies on Earth. You make sound, and I make light, but we both come from the same place, Luma’s words floated through Alice’s ears. We are not as different as we all thought.
Alice felt her chest tighten. She was grateful that she was chosen to be the exchange student on this planet. As the gentle melody played, the vines swayed and breathed with the beat.
“Maybe,” Alice said just above a whisper, “we’re all made to connect. Just…in our own ways.”
They stayed like that long after the last note faded, letting the quiet settle around them in a way that felt almost sacred. Alice wished she could hold onto the moment, capture it the way the surrounding planets held life and light in their own leaves. And in the days that followed, the memory of that soft hum stayed with her. Something in her had shifted; she felt it in the way the silence no longer pressed and suffocated her, but the way it folded around her gently, as if the planet itself had begun to trust her.
Alice knew she wouldn’t be returning with anything glowing or strange to show her friends, nothing they could fawn over like in the beginning. But she realized now that she was carrying something better, inside of her. She was bringing back something no souvenir could replicate. A reminder that even worlds apart, something as small as music could bridge the distance between two kinds who thought they had nothing in common.
As the ship prepared to take her home, she glanced down at the soft glow beneath her feet. The same glow that once made her feel like an outsider. Now it shimmered with a quiet warmth, as if the planet were offering its own farewell to its newly made friend.