Oblivion Protocol

On PX-9 “Gravestone”, a rogue planet where storms scarred the sky and lightning rewrote history, the crash of the Ursa Major marked humanity’s final gamble. The three astronauts—call signs Vega, Orion, Lyra—stared at the ship’s carcass, its hull split like a rotten fruit. Their hazmat suits hissed against the toxic rain as they scanned the flickering control panels. The logs were corrupted, but fragments remained: “Cargo: Genesis Seeds. Destination: Colony Alpha-9. Status: Compromised.” Lightning flashed, illuminating glyphs etched into the cliffs—symbols matching those on the ship’s black box. Vega traced a gloved finger over the metal. “This wasn’t a crash,” she muttered. “It was a landing.” The storm roared. The screens flickered. And the ground trembled with secrets better left buried.