Rot

We sent messages to the stars, in hopes of meeting others like us. Pictures which showed our world, sounds of children playing and animals calling to one another, videos of people celebrating and talking and having fun. We included maps that we figured any intelligent species would understand, and which they could use to find us.

No one answered. For decades, we remained alone in a cold, vast universe. We grew scared as our planet grew warmer, and as our natural world began to die. We sought out plans for colonizing Mars, or the moon, any way we could safeguard the survival of our species.

When we thought the end had come, they answered. They likewise sent pictures and videos and music. Their world was beautiful, a shimmering utopia formed from the natural world, with a people similar enough to us that we believed they were friends immediately.

Most important, however, were the plans they included. Plans for the construction of a warp drive, using the level of technology they’d seen from our messages. The fact that such an advanced form of technology could be made with machinery nearly a century old made us feel like fools, but the sheer excitement of meeting another kind kept us from embarrassment.

We built the warp drive as quickly as we could, the feat bringing all of humanity together for the first time in our war-torn history. We set aside differences, forgave debts and transgressions, and as one, prepared for the journey ahead.

We selected the ones which represented the best of our kind, the smart, the strong, the generous. We packed gifts and food, brought on board instruments and our latest technologies. We were determined to make the best first impression. Once our chosen crew had gone aboard, we wished them farewell, and waited.

We never heard from them again, though we received messages from our friends from beyond the stars. The messages were in English now, no longer speaking in the aliens’ language, yet they made no mention of the team we’d sent to greet them. It was as if they’d simply ceased to exist.

What could have possibly happened to them? Why had we received no response from our crew? Was it possible they’d followed the directions incorrectly? Or was it something worse?

I was part of the team sent to determine the truth. Not a large team, there were only seven of us, but we were more than capable. And damn good fighters. Though we wanted to believe our friends from the stars were peaceful, we couldn’t take our chances. They gave us the best weaponry they could develop, with a little bit of knowledge that they’d gleaned from our friends.

The vessel we took was a small one, just enough to transport us to our destination, but shielded as heavily as it could be. And, in a worst-case scenario, it could be rigged to produce a thermonuclear explosion powerful enough to wipe out everything within a two-hundred-mile radius.

We set out with the rising of the sun, saying farewell to the world that had been our entire lives, on the off chance we never returned. It was a grim thought we carried with us, even as we journeyed through space.

The warp drive was an incredible invention, capable of bending the fabric of space-time around our ship. It produced a bubble of warped space around us, and without breaking the laws of physics related to the speed of light, we moved faster than light.

As much as I knew I had to focus on the mission, the sight of nothingness outside was captivating. It wasn’t like what I’d expected, with the streaks of light like in the movies. Instead, there was just … blackness.

We didn’t do any actual flying of the ship, it flew itself, relying only on the spatial coordinates we’d received from our friends. Yet, we could feel it as we approached, the anxiety permeating the cabin.

What would we find? Would they be as friendly as they’d seemed in their messages? Or were they warmongers, desperate for a conquest?

Whatever we’d been expecting, it couldn’t have been further from the truth. The ship landed hours after we’d left, though it felt like mere minutes had passed. Environmental scans showed the outside world was safe for humans, but not very kind.

As designated leader of the group, I was the first to exit the vessel. Although, instead of the beautiful natural utopia we’d seen, there was only death, and decay. Plants lay rotting from their roots up, half-devoured piles of flesh lay strewn all about.

For a long while, I scanned the horizon, searching for a sign that this was the proverbial “elephant graveyard.” If I could just find some evidence that there was life beyond this patch of rot, then our trip wouldn’t be for naught.

“Captain, over there.”

I followed the first officer’s finger until my gaze landed on a misshapen outcropping jutting up from the edge of the world. It almost looked like … “Son of a bitch, that’s the last ship we sent.”

A wave of anxiety washed over me as I wondered what could’ve gone wrong. Had we missed a measurement when we’d built the first warp engine? Or perhaps we hadn’t shielded the ship properly for atmospheric entry.

There were a thousand terrible scenarios that ran through my mind, but one thing was abundantly clear. If anyone was still alive, they would need our help, and if they weren’t …

“Come on.”

With our rifles in tow, we set out for the wreckage of our sister vessel. Along the way, we kept our helmets on. Although scans had shown the atmosphere was breathable, none of us were about to risk it with all the dead plants and animals around us.

As we drew nearer, we faltered in our steps. Our helmets each carried a transmitter tuned only to our specific frequency. We could hear sounds from our environment, but they were muffled. So, when we heard music as clearly as if it came from inside our own heads, we slowed.

“Captain, are you hearing that, too?”

“Yeah.” I gripped my rifle tighter. “It’s human music.”

At least, I thought it was. There were stringed instruments and flutes and all kinds of other instruments. There were even choir singers. Something about it felt … off, however. It was hard to place, hard to conceptualize beyond a nagging in the back of my mind. Almost like its source understood what human music was made of, but not what it should sound like.

“High alert, crew.”

We kept our rifles aimed forward as we advanced, prepared to fire on anything that moved. If the former crew were still alive, it was our duty to get them out of there. I had a feeling they wouldn’t be alive.

The wreckage was situated within a valley. It wasn’t deep, just enough that the cliffs on either side brought us level with the main cabin’s windows. There, staring back at us, were the rotting, discarded corpses of the former crew.

Two weeks had been enough time for their flesh to peel away in patches, but not enough for them to be only bones. Skin and sinew and spine … all was visible, some seeping out of their spacesuits and others having been extruded outward by some unknown force. I felt sick to my stomach.

Despite the queasiness in my gut, I knew we had a mission to finish. “Come on. Let’s get the black box and get out of here.” I started making the trek down the cliff, with the others in tow, all chatting and asking questions to calm their nerves.

“You think we got the coordinates wrong somehow?” one of the others asked.

“I mean, maybe they don’t use the same kind of numbering system.”

“But isn’t this where the transmission was coming from?”

“Uh, guys? I think I got a leak in my suit.”

The final question ripped me out of my focus. My gaze snapped toward the one who’d said it. Indeed, there was a thin cut across his leg. Whatever had made the cut hadn’t nicked his skin, but it’d gone clear through the suit’s protective layers.

“I smell … Oh, god.” He retched. “It smells like rotting meat.” Another retch. “I think I’m gonna be—”

Before I could warn him against it, he yanked his helmet off and threw it aside. What came up wasn’t vomit, not even close. Instead, it looked very much like entrails and flesh. The moment it hit the air, it began to decay.

We all backed away as he kept retching. The ground around his feet grew crimson before the planet’s decay dried it into a dead brown. His flesh began to rot off of his bones, sloughing off in chunks to expose the bone beneath. Worst of all, as he straightened up, he didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong.

“Ugh, god.” He wiped his mouth on a sleeve. “That was horrible.” He noticed our stares. “What’s … wrong?”

I pointed to his hand. He raised it, caught sight of the skin sagging off of his fingers, and screamed. Before he could incite any further panic among the crew, I placed a bullet between his eyes.

“Back to the shuttle,” I commanded beneath my breath.

“What—”

“Back. To. The shuttle. Don’t touch a damn thing.”

We abandoned the black box, left behind one of our own, hurried to escape. The moment we slammed the airlock shut behind us, I rushed to the cockpit and engaged the engines. I knew nothing was more important than getting us off such a godforsaken planet. Even decontamination could wait until the autopilot kicked in.

After all, there was no way rot could be carried on the surface of our suits.