Arrival at Planet Null Terra
1126 Words
I froze.
Warp.
I’d never experienced it myself—but I’d heard enough. Space tearing apart. Gravity collapsing into chaos. Without a stasis pod, your organs would be crushed outright.
Five minutes.
The impacts outside grew louder. The ship’s vibrations intensified.
I forced myself to stay calm and scanned my surroundings.
Taking advantage of the chaos, I smashed open a steel panel in the corner with my hammer. Behind it— a maintenance shaft. Narrow. Pitch-black.
But—my only way.
I have to survive.
The shaking worsened. From deep within the shaft came the sound of metal warping.
“Time remaining: three minutes.”
Gritting my teeth, I crawled faster. No door at the end—just an even tighter bend.
I forced my way through, elbows scraping against metal, pain flaring sharp.
Then—my fingertips pressed against something different.
Click.
A faint sound.
The wall in front of me split open along a seam.
Light seeped through.
The gap widened, revealing a pod embedded in the wall.
“Time remaining: one minute.”
No time. I rushed over, fumbling across its surface—no response.
“Come on… open, please—open…”
Nothing.
“Time remaining: twenty seconds.”
I clenched my jaw, pulled out the hammer, ready to smash it open.
As I raised it, the black crystal at the head flickered.
A faint glow spread across the pod’s surface, tracing outward from where my hand touched.
Click.
The hatch slid open.
“Ten. Nine. Eight…”
No time.
I gritted my teeth and shoved myself inside.
The hatch closed slowly behind me.
“…Three.”
“Two.”
“One.”
Darkness crashed down.
The next second—
Boom.
The entire ship felt like it had been kicked into the void.
I slammed hard against the inner wall of the pod. My chest seized—the air crushed out of me in an instant.
The jump had begun.
It felt like my bones were being pulled in different directions by some invisible force. My ears rang. Even my heartbeat lost its rhythm.
I clenched my teeth, not daring to make a sound.
I don’t know how long it lasted. The turbulence came in waves—strong, then weak—as if the ship were being torn apart along an unstable trajectory.
My consciousness began to drift.
“Warning. Warning.”
The voice suddenly blared from outside the pod—mechanical, cold, amplified within the confined space.
“Insufficient energy. Warp sequence terminating.”
My eyes snapped open, my heart tightening sharply.
Insufficient energy? Terminating?
What did it mean to “stop” in the middle of a warp—I didn’t know.
But my instincts told me it wouldn’t end well.
I immediately raised my hand and shoved at the hatch.
I pushed with all my strength—even used the hammer. Nothing.
“Open—!”
I gritted my teeth and slammed my shoulder into it.
The hatch didn’t budge.
Outside, the alarm grew sharper, more frantic—like a countdown, like a verdict being passed.
“Warning—system imbalance—”
The next instant, the ship felt like it had been dropped from a great height. Every force spiraled out of control.
I was thrown violently upward, then slammed back down into the pod. My vision exploded into white.
Bones rattling. Blood roaring in my ears.
Then—nothing.
I woke into absolute silence.
When I opened my eyes, the darkness had thinned. A dull gray light seeped through the seams of the pod.
It took me a few seconds to realize—
I was still alive.
My fingers twitched. Then my wrist.
I drew in a deep breath and pushed at the hatch.
This time—click.
It opened easily.
The moment the hatch slid aside, a rush of cold air poured in—carrying dust, and… a sour, decaying smell.
I braced myself and climbed out. When my feet touched the ground, it felt unreal.
The interior of the ship was a wreck.
Metal structures twisted and warped. In some places, the hull had been torn open, exposing charred fractures.
I froze for a second.
It had crashed.
I moved instinctively toward the nearest viewport.
Outside—wasteland.
A gray-white expanse stretched to the horizon, as if scorched… or utterly abandoned.
The sky was dim—not night, but a lifeless gloom.
This wasn’t anywhere I knew.
I turned back and began searching the ship.
Cockpit. Maintenance bays. Storage.
But something was wrong.
Not a single person.
No bodies. No blood.
Clean—unnaturally clean.
I stood in the middle of the empty corridor, suddenly unsure.
Had they escaped… or vanished?
My grip tightened slowly around the hammer.
If they were dead—where were the bodies?
The entire ship was silent like a tomb.
No.
Worse than a tomb.
Because there wasn’t even a mosquito.
I stood in the empty cabin for a long time without moving.
I didn’t know where I was, and I didn’t know how to fly a ship.
And I was very aware—before the crash, the system had issued its final warning: insufficient energy.
Which meant this thing wasn’t going anywhere.
I let out a breath. My throat felt dry.
If I’m here, I deal with it.
I started going through the ship, room by room.
No trace of anyone left behind—but their things were still there.
In the storage lockers, I found some sealed food. Not much, but enough to last for a while.
There were also rows of transparent tubular containers filled with liquids of different colors—blue, pale green, and one almost clear.
I unscrewed one, sniffed it carefully. It smelled faintly fruity, like a drink.
I didn’t dare drink much—just a small sip. My tongue tingled slightly, but there was no discomfort.
For now, it would do as water.
I kept searching. Beyond that—and a lot of scrap metal—there was nothing else.
In the end, I stood there and muttered a curse under my breath.
Then I turned to look at the stasis pod.
… At least it still worked. I had somewhere to sleep.
The next day, I started exploring outside.
Endless waste stretched in every direction—metal wreckage, shattered structures, unknown mechanical parts—piled, buried, extending to the horizon like an entire planet turned into a dumping ground.
When the wind blew, it carried fine dust and debris, scraping together with faint, dry sounds.
Other than that—silence.
I stood on higher ground, looking out over it all.
An empty world. No response.
“Then I’ll call you—Null Terra.”
Just like that, the name was decided.
- Writer
