Special Notes: Of course I can’t enter a story into the Halloween Contest, but as I often do, I write the story I would have submitted, and put it here. So, is this a horror story, only time will tell? Solar Desolation, a short story The relentless glare of Mercury's sun bore down on the research station, a beacon of scorching light that never waned. Dr. Emilia Santos adjusted the solar filters on her helmet with a practiced flick of her gloved fingers, squinting through the tempered visor as she surveyed the barren landscape stretching out before her. The station, a gleaming cluster of modules interconnected by reinforced tunnels, stood resilient against the extreme environment, a testament to human ingenuity and Emilia's own dedication. Life on Mercury was a delicate ballet of timing and precision. Emilia's days were dictated by the planet's mercurial temperament—half in the searing daylight that could melt lead, the other half cloaked in a darkness so profound it seemed to swallow the stars themselves. Her routine was a rigorous cycle of collecting surface samples, monitoring seismic activity, and analyzing the ever-shifting patterns of Mercury's thin exosphere. Inside the station, the hum of machinery and the soft whirr of computers created a constant backdrop to her activities. Emilia navigated the narrow corridors with ease, her body accustomed to the lower gravity, making her feel almost graceful—a sensation she savored in the confines of the pressurized habitat. Meals were functional, rehydrated and nutrient-packed, consumed quickly between experiments that could not wait for the whims of hunger. Isolation was a companion Emilia had learned to embrace. The silence of the station was punctuated only by the occasional transmission from Earth, a distant echo of a world she had left behind. These brief exchanges were a lifeline, yet also a reminder of the solitude that defined her existence on this scorched rock closest to the sun. Yet, despite the harshness, there was beauty. Sometimes, during the long Mercurian twilight, Emilia would gaze through the observation deck's thick quartz windows at the horizon where the dark sky met the scorched land. There, amidst the desolation, she found a sense of peace, a confirmation that her work, her sacrifices, were contributing to the tapestry of human knowledge—an uncharted melody in the symphony of the cosmos. The incessant hum of the air conditioning filled Emilia's ears, a soundtrack to her solitude on this barren planet. She was no stranger to the monotonous beep of consoles or the rhythmic clanking of the automated digging equipment that burrowed deep into Mercury's crust beneath her feet. Yet, amidst the mechanical symphony, a sudden discordance struck—a shrill alarm that pierced the speakers. Emilia's heart rate quickened as she swiveled in her chair, her eyes darting towards the flashing red light on the control panel. The screen displayed an urgent message, "Obstruction detected in Tunnel 4B." Her practiced fingers flew across the touch-sensitive controls, seeking to pinpoint the anomaly that had halted the progression of her subterranean exploration. "Come on, show me what you've got," she muttered under her breath, her scientific curiosity piqued. It wasn't uncommon for the diggers to encounter resistance from dense rock formations or metal deposits, but every interruption held the potential for discovery—or disaster. She initiated the diagnostic protocols, her gaze locked on the live feed from the digger cameras. The image was a sea of shadows until the lights from the halted machine cut through the darkness, revealing the outline of something... unexpected. Not the smooth face of a mineral vein or the jagged edges of a rock shelf, but an irregular shape that defied immediate identification. "Interesting," Emilia whispered, leaning closer as if proximity would grant her better insight into the enigma before her. The obstruction stood in silent challenge, a puzzle that beckoned her analytical mind. What secrets did it guard? What stories of Mercury's hidden depths were etched into its form? With a tap, she dispatched additional drones for a closer inspection. The scientist in her thrived on such moments—the thrill of an unknown variable, the promise of revelation. Emilia knew that whatever lay within the bowels of this unforgiving planet, she was here to unearth it, to expand the horizons of human knowledge with each fragment of Mercurian mystery she extracted from the rock and dust. Emilia's gaze was fixed, unblinking, on the grainy monitor as a cloud of regolith particles swirled on the screen. The digging drones, like mechanical moles, had arrived at the site of the anomaly, their illuminated pincers casting eerie shadows on the tunnel walls. She watched as the debris cleared, revealing only a few inches of the obstruction—a glinting edge of silver metal that seemed to mock her with its mysterious presence. "Come on, give me something more," she murmured, her voice barely audible in the confines of the control room. The isolation of the Mercury research station often felt oppressive, but now it magnified her curiosity tenfold. The solitary existence meant any discovery was hers alone to interpret, and this—this was no ordinary find. The drones worked tirelessly, unaware of the significance of their task. Emilia leaned forward, her heart thumping a staccato rhythm against her ribcage. An old rocket booster? It was plausible; the early days of space exploration had littered space with such relics. But here on Mercury, where the sun was a looming giant and the shadows hid secrets, anything seemed possible. "Okay, let's see what you're hiding," Emilia whispered, her fingers dancing across the control panel to nudge the drones for a better angle. The silver metal shone brighter as more of it was uncovered, a silent testament to human endeavor—or perhaps, to something else entirely. Emilia's fingers danced over the control panel with a practiced ease, her eyes never leaving the grainy feed from the drone's camera. With a few deft keystrokes, she toggled the drone diggers to archeology mode. Their movements became painstakingly meticulous, almost reverent, as they scraped away centuries of regolith that had cemented itself over the anomaly. "Easy does it," she muttered under her breath, a mantra for both herself and the machines working kilometers below her station. She leaned in closer to the monitor, watching the small tunnel expand. The drones' delicate manipulators brushed away debris, revealing more of the shimmering metal surface. Emilia's heart thudded against her ribs. Every new centimeter uncovered added weight to the realization that this was no mere discarded piece of space junk. The tunnel seemed to breathe with her anticipation, the walls stretching back as if reluctant to let go of their secret. Yet as the drones worked, no edge came into view on the screen—a suggestion that the object’s dimensions were beyond what she had first imagined. "Come on," Emilia whispered, her previous excitement mingling with a tinge of unease. The scale of the find was unprecedented, something colossal and uncharted hiding beneath Mercury's scarred face. It was big, and until its form was fully unearthed, its implications loomed large and unknowable before her. She leaned back in her chair for a moment, watching through the monitor as the mechanical appendages of the drones continued to scrape away at the Mercurian soil with meticulous care, their movements now dictated by pre-programmed algorithms optimized for delicate archaeological work. The object remained an enigma, its full form still shrouded in mystery beneath layers of sediment and time. Emilia's curiosity itched like a persistent rash, but duty called with a louder voice than the siren song of discovery. With a resigned sigh, she swiveled her chair away from the display, her gaze lingering before breaking contact. She stood up, stretching her legs stiff from hours of monitoring, feeling the habitual weightlessness that came with Mercury's meager gravity. Every movement had to be moderated, learned anew on this alien world where even the act of walking could become a clumsy ballet. Her workstation was cluttered with scattered data pads and various tools of her scientific trade. She swept up a pad, tapping it awake to reveal the latest solar flare activity graphs. The numbers were a vibrant dance of peaks and valleys, each one a piece of the cosmic puzzle that held the potential to wreak havoc on technology both here and on distant Earth. "Damn," she muttered under her breath, her eyes scanning the critical levels. The report should have been sent an hour ago; Earth Command depended on her timely updates for their interplanetary operations. Her hands worked quickly now, compiling the necessary data into a concise report. Efficiency had become her closest ally in this solitary existence, and she prided herself on it—even when the unexpected threatened to derail her schedule. As the transmission queued up, ready to breach the void between planets, Emilia allowed herself one last glance at the live feed from the tunnel. The drones, now just silhouettes against the metallic glint of the anomaly, were autonomous agents fulfilling her will. "Keep going," she whispered to them, as if they could hear her encouragement. She turned back to her console, pressing the send button with determined finality. The flare measurements would reach Earth Command without further delay, and she would not allow herself to fall behind. Not today, not on Mercury, where every second counted twice. With the report on its way, Emilia's thoughts lingered on the silver metal hidden beneath the surface. Time would unveil its secrets, she mused, and she would be there, ready to decipher them. But for now, there were systems to check, routines to follow, and the ceaseless ebb and flow of celestial responsibilities that didn't pause for unexpected discoveries. It wouldn’t be for another two days before Emilia had a chance to check on the digger's progress. The luminescent clock on the wall marked the early hours of the Mercurian morning, but time had little meaning in the subterranean research station. As an image flickered onto the screen, her breath caught—a three-foot section of the anomaly now lay bare, shrouded in the fine dust the drones had displaced. She leaned closer, eyes tracing the revealed contours of the metallic object. There was an intentional design to it, a craftsmanship that belied its random discovery. And then she saw it—the writing. It etched along one corner of the metal piece, glyphs shimmering slightly as if catching the nonexistent light of the tunnel. Emilia squinted, cycling through mental archives of Earth’s languages, both modern and ancient. Nothing matched these cryptic symbols. "Definitely not a booster," she muttered to herself, a mixture of excitement and trepidation swirling within her. This was no relic of human space exploration; this was something else entirely. Emilia's heart beat with the thrill of potential first contact, tempered by the isolation that her solitary posting entailed. She would have to report this, but for a moment longer, she let herself absorb the magnitude of the find alone in the silence of Mercury's embrace. Emilia's report to Earth Command received a quick reply, the message clear and unequivocal: all experiments were to be put on hold. Her mind raced with the possibilities of the discovery as she initiated the awakening of Digger II, the behemoth drone slumbering in hibernation mode since it had dug the tunnels where the research station would be built. "Alright, old friend," she murmured to the machine, "it's time to get back to work." With a sequence of commands, she directed Digger II's systems to power up, watching as status indicators blinked from dormant amber to an active green. The drone's engines hummed a low, almost inaudible thrum, felt more through the soles of her boots than heard in the vacuum of Mercury's harsh environment. Programming the route was meticulous work; every variable had to be accounted for. Mercury's erratic magnetic field, the possible interference from solar flares, and the precise location of the enigmatic metal object—all fed into the navigation system. Emilia knew that even with the best calculations, it would take three weeks for Digger II to carve its way through the rock and reach the obstruction. "Patience," she whispered to herself. The word was a mantra in this desolate world, where time seemed both endless and precious. While Digger II lumbered towards its destination, Emilia shifted her focus back to the smaller drones. These nimble machines continued their excavation, each scoop of Mercurian soil bringing them closer to uncovering the secrets of the anomaly. She adjusted their protocols to maximize precision, ensuring they treated the unknown metal with the delicacy of an archaeologist's brush. As bits of dirt and rock tumbled away under the careful ministrations of the drones, more of the silver surface came into view. Emilia squinted at the monitor, trying to make sense of the strange markings that adorned the object. They spiraled and twisted in patterns that tugged at the edges of her recognition—yet defied interpretation. "Are you a message?" she mused aloud, "A warning? Or a simple oddity of the cosmos?" The station around her was silent, save for the soft whir of machinery and the occasional ping from the communication console reminding her of her isolation. Here, on this scorched planet closest to the sun, Emilia found herself on the precipice of discovery, waiting for a machine to breach the gap between the known and the unknown. And so, she watched, and she waited, her curiosity a burning star in the quiet solitude of her metallic world. Weeks passed as Digger II dug its way toward the object. Emilia spent her time concentrating on the smaller diggers, their whirring bits coated in Mercury’s gray regolith, gnawed persistently at the hardened soil. She watched the monitor closely, beads of sweat forming on her brow, not from heat—her suit regulated that—but from raw anticipation. Suddenly, the drone’s arm buckled slightly, and a puff of dust billowed on the screen. Her breath hitched. The drone had hit something hollow. Adjusting the controls, she maneuvered the mechanical arm to scrape away the loose dirt, revealing a hatch. The realization struck her like a comet's impact: the metal object was an alien spacecraft. "Earth Command, do you copy?" Emilia's voice barely wavered as she relayed her discovery. "Confirmed, Emilia. We're seeing it too," came the crackling reply through the comm system. "Stand by for further instructions." Hours later, the confirmation arrived. Earth Command's message was clear and filled with an urgency that sent a shiver down Emilia's spine despite the warmth inside her station. "An expedition team will be assembled and dispatched, but the timeline is twelve months to launch plus two years travel time. Your orders are to proceed with making entry into the alien spacecraft. Exercise extreme caution, Emilia. Humanity is watching." She nodded to herself, alone in the command center. The Digger II would still take another two weeks to make room for her physical presence there, but the hatch was now exposed. It was up to her—the lone scientist on Mercury—to breach a gateway into an entirely unknown chapter of human history. "Understood, Earth Command," Emilia responded, her gaze fixated on the hatch that gleamed under the harsh Mercurian sunlight filtering through the tunnel. "I'll prepare for entry." A mix of dread and excitement coursed through her veins. She was on the precipice of the unknown, about to step into a vessel from the stars, alone, with the weight of human curiosity resting firmly upon her shoulders. Time trudged on Mercury as Emilia counted down the slow crawl of days. The monotony of waiting was a stark contrast to the flurry of frenetic activity that had seized her when the hatch was first uncovered. Every second felt stretched, a testament to the planet's sluggish rotation. Inside the dimly lit control room of the research station, Emilia watched with bated breath as Digger II's steel appendages scraped away the last clumps of stubborn regolith from the chamber walls the smaller diggers had made. She had meticulously planned the size and shape of the chamber with the smaller diggers, envisioning it as a gateway to the unknown. Now, the moment of truth hovered just within reach. The mechanical hum of Digger II filled the air as it made its final pass, confirming the breach into the prepared space. With deft movements, Emilia guided the heavy drone backwards, clearing the path she would soon take. The drone's camera relayed the sight of the inner chamber's mouth gaping open, an entrance to an alien world beneath Mercury's scarred surface. Her heart pounded in sync with the rhythmic thuds of machinery retracting. This wasn't just any procedural task; this was the threshold of humanity's first potential encounter with extraterrestrial technology. She took a moment to absorb the gravity of her next step—alone on this searing planet, she was humanity's envoy to the stars. With a steadying breath, Emilia secured her environment suit, checking the seals for the umpteenth time. She glanced at the array of monitors, their glow casting sharp shadows across her determined face. The equipment continued to operate autonomously, diligently collecting solar flare data that now seemed almost trivial compared to what lay ahead. She moved towards the airlock, her hands steady despite the tremor of excitement coursing through her veins. Once through, she approached the opening that Digger II had created, its edges rough but unmistakably the result of her command. She dropped to her knees, feeling the heated rock through her gloves as she placed her hands on the threshold. It was time. With careful precision, she crawled through the opening, the weight of her actions pressing upon her shoulders as heavily as the alien craft's secrets. As she emerged into the inner chamber, Emilia's headlamp cut through the darkness, revealing a sight beyond the realm of human experience. The chamber was silent, a sanctum untouched by time or the harsh elements outside. Here, in the belly of an otherworldly vessel, Emilia stood alone—yet connected to every soul back on Earth, waiting for her to unravel the mysteries that awaited in the silent expanse. Emilia's fingers brushed against the smooth metal as she inched closer to the hatch. The cramped space forced her to move with careful precision, each breath measured and deliberate. She paused, her gaze tracing the intricate patterns of the writing etched into the side of the vessel. It was a script so alien it might as well have been the doodlings of a child, yet there was an undeniable structure to it—a language that spoke of intelligence and purpose. She had sent countless images back to Earth, where the best cryptographers had poured over them, but the symbols remained as enigmatic as the first day she'd laid eyes on them. Now, mere inches from the mystery, Emilia felt a familiar surge of exhilaration mixed with the tinge of apprehension. What knowledge—or peril—lay beyond this threshold? In the close quarters, her hand found the hatch mechanism, a simple construct that belied the advanced technology she presumed operated within. Small indentations seemed to invite her fingers, as if tailored for beings smaller than humans in scale. With a tentative grip, Emilia manipulated the device, a soft click resonating in the silence around her. The hatch obeyed her coaxing, gliding open with a fluid grace that suggested it was indeed awaiting discovery. For a moment, she hesitated on the precipice of the unknown. This was more than a doorway; it was a portal to an alien world, a bridge between the known and the unfathomable. Her pulse quickened, a symphony of excitement and fear playing in her veins. With a fortifying inhalation, Emilia committed herself to the void beyond, crawling through the threshold into the vessel's enigmatic heart. Emilia's gloved hands met the cool, metallic floor of the craft as she pulled herself inside. The interior was stark, a testament to minimalist design that somehow felt both alien and inviting. As she rose to her feet in a crouch, her helmet light cut through the darkness, casting stark shadows on smooth surfaces and angular lines. There was no labyrinth of pipes and wires, no cacophony of blinking indicators or switches—only the purity of uncluttered function. With each cautious step, the beam from her helmet swept across what she could only guess were control panels, their surfaces embedded with unfamiliar symbols that glowed faintly in the reflected light. She marveled at the efficiency, the elegance of it all, her scientist’s curiosity flaring like a beacon in the sterile void. But then, the light ensnared a figure—a sentinel draped in a spacesuit of an otherworldly make, seated regally at what must have been the pilot's station. Emilia froze, her heart pounding a relentless rhythm against her ribs. Time seemed suspended in the stillness that enveloped them both. The figure sat motionless, its suit reflecting the luminescence of her light, casting prisms on the cabin walls. It was smaller than a human, its posture one of eternal vigilance, hands poised as if just moments ago they had danced across the controls, navigating the cosmos. Emilia approached, drawn by an irresistible force, her scientific mind now a whirlwind of questions. Was this being the pilot, or merely a passenger? What journey had it been on, and why here, why Mercury? She extended a hand, hesitating just shy of contact, her breaths shallow and controlled within her helmet. Would the figure crumble at a touch, or was it preserved, awaiting reawakening? As her fingers neared the reflective material of the suit, the anticipation was almost unbearable. She was inches from touching not just the fabric, but the knowledge of civilizations beyond her own, a connection with the ineffable expanse of existence itself. Her fingertips grazed the spacesuit, and the reality of the encounter settled upon her—a solitary human, reaching across the void to gently brush the remnants of a once-living navigator from the stars. With a tender, albeit tentative touch, Emilia sought to adjust the outstretched arm. It was a symbolic gesture, meant to grant some semblance of peace to the long-perished voyager. As her fingers curled around the slender, otherworldly limb, a sense of unity with this interstellar traveler washed over her. Despite the vast differences in their origins, they shared a common bond: exploration. The frozen pose had held an eerie grace, but as she applied the slightest pressure, the balance that preserved the alien's final moment wavered. There was no resistance, only a silent surrender as the body yielded to her intervention. Emilia felt her breath catch as the figure pitched forward, the arm moving with a fluidity that belied the ages it had remained still. The hand, with its slender digits, descended toward the control panel—a panel that had awaited command for time untold. Her light cast stark shadows as the hand made contact, and the ship responded. A low hum vibrated through the hull, a sound so fundamental it seemed more felt than heard. Panels flickered to life, illuminating the cabin with a soft glow, bathing both Emilia and the deceased pilot in a light that spoke of secrets and spacefaring dreams. As the ship came alive around her, Emilia realized the gravity of what had just occurred. She had inadvertently awoken technology beyond her understanding, potentially bridging a gap between worlds that had never before been crossed. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she stepped back, observing the display with wide eyes. This was no longer just a discovery; it was a first contact scenario playing out in slow motion, with her at the helm. She whispered an apology to the fallen explorer for the disturbance, even as her mind raced ahead, contemplating the implications of the ship’s awakening. Emilia knew the next steps would redefine human history, but in that moment, surrounded by the hum of alien machinery, she simply stood in reverence of the journey that had led her here, to this silent communion with the stars. The sudden chime cut through the reverence, a piercing sound that seemed to resonate with urgency. Emilia's heart pounded in her chest as she realized the implications; the alien spacecraft was calling out into the void. A distress beacon, a cry for assistance that had lain dormant until now, her actions serving as the catalyst. Panic set in as she considered the possibility of other beings receiving the signal, of drawing unwanted attention to this desolate planet, to Earth. She had to act fast. The control panel before her was an array of unfamiliar symbols and buttons, but her intuition as a scientist mixed with the adrenaline-fueled necessity of the moment. Her gloved fingers danced across the controls in desperation, pressing each one with deliberate force, hoping to chance upon a solution. The beep of the beacon persisted, indifferent to her efforts, marking time like a heartbeat in the silence of the chamber. "Think, Emilia," she muttered to herself, her breath fogging the visor of her helmet. She retraced the pilot's final gesture, looking for any clue that might help her understand this alien technology. It felt like fumbling in the dark, searching for a light switch in an unfamiliar room. In a stroke of insight born from the edge of despair, she turned her attention to the deceased pilot. The alien's hand, now slumped at an unnatural angle, seemed to possess the answer she sought. With a mixture of reluctance and determination, Emilia reached out and gingerly lifted the lifeless appendage. Positioning the hand back onto the control panel, she applied pressure, mimicking the pose the pilot had intended. For a moment, nothing happened, and Emilia's hope waned. But then, as if acknowledging the return of its master's touch, the control panel reacted. The incessant chime halted abruptly, replaced by the hum of silence. Emilia let out a sigh of relief, the tension draining from her shoulders. The silence enveloped her once more, profound and absolute. She had stopped the beacon, but the weight of the situation lingered. Had the beacon made it beyond the rock that covered the spacecraft? Was a distress call now traversing the cosmos, calling to someone from an alien world? Alone with the pilot, she stood on the cusp of the unknown, a lone human guardian amidst the remnants of an extraterrestrial odyssey. Her mind turned to the long wait ahead. Earth's specialists were years away, and there was so much to do, so much to learn. Emilia glanced at the pilot once more, feeling a kinship with this voyager from the stars. Together in silence, they would watch over the secrets of the cosmos until help arrived, either from Earth, or somewhere else.