White Hell

They had originally named this exoplanet WHTHLL025. After astronauts began sending probes there, everyone just called it White Hell. It was, as scientists discovered, an icy world so glacial cold and forbidding that no life was deemed viable. 

That was, until twelve cycles ago, when a Dr. Javier Veil reanalyzed some of the older probe data.

To say his discovery changed the world would be an understatement.

A mission was planned; humanity had to see for themselves.

I’m typing these words as we approach WHTHLL025, on the starship Reveal. It’s nippy on this level of the ship, even though the environmental controls are set at mid-range.

Most of the ship’s energy is being routed to the quanta engines. My fingers feel numb. I bite them in an attempt to get some sensation back.

Dr. Javier looks up from his holo-display. He gives me a weak smile. I nod back and he lifts from his seat. I just realize how gaunt he’s become. I’m worried about him.

A slight plume of vapor drifts from his mouth when he asks “Need anything from the galley?” I tell him no, but what I really crave right now, of all things, is a hot loaded baked potato. One smothered with the works: butter, sour cream, cheese, bacon bits and chives. And could I ever go for a really good cup of hot chocolate, made with milk…

Damn! I got to stop this.

The food on this ship is strictly nutritional—flavor is a distant memory, one of many things I left behind on Earth 3.

Tapping on my holopad, I access remote camera data and see WHTHLL025 looming ahead. This giant frozen sphere resembles ancient images I’ve seen of cold, distant moons orbiting a gas giant neighbor of Earth 1.

***

I’m in a descent craft with Dr. Javier and a mecha we affectionately call Jack. The ride to the surface is nothing short of vomit-inducing as we get slammed and buffeted by volatile weather.

The craft levels out once we get 100 meters from the surface, and I can now see massive ice columns appearing like alien monoliths carved by the unseen hand of some giant sculptor.

I’m filled with both excitement and apprehension as the craft’s landing skids crunch down on the snow and ice. I can feel the vibration go all the way through my body. I clench my teeth as I exit the craft, the arctic-level winds howling around me. I hear my environmental suit whirl and click as the joints work in spite of this extreme weather.

Looking skyward, there are what appear to be huge snowflakes the side of dinner plates drifting by. I have to be careful where to step because ice spikes protrude from the ground like daggers. Jack lumbers on a few steps behind us.

Dr. Javier taps me on the arm and points to something shining, a point of light on the sleet-obscured horizon.

Every movement takes extra effort as we pick our way across a frozen landscape of brittle glass and diamond-encrusted boulder fields. I look behind me. Jack’s exo-plating is covered in frost.

The communication channel buzzes in my ear, but Dr. Javier’s voice crackles as if speaking from a great distance rather than right beside me. I see the ground splintering like a spider web under our feet. He tells me this area is unstable. The next moment, a fissure swallows him whole.

I fall backwards and frantically scoot away. I yell for Jack to follow me as we retreat over and around the huge ice formations.

Once Jack and I get enough distance between us and the sunken glass valley, I realize there is no rescue mission here. The good doctor is irrevocably lost to this hellish, white, frozen world.

And not for the first time, I regret the long journey here.

Once we regroup, I set a new course for the bright anomaly that the doctor spotted in the distance. Jack occasionally takes material samples and atmospheric readings. I occasionally do the same while fighting back the urge to panic.

This world’s star burns brilliantly like a sapphire demon in the void of space. How anything resembling life could exist here is difficult to fathom. I look down at the readout. These readings are confusing.

I confer with Jack. He confirms that an elemental soup is, indeed, present. Oxygen, nickel, methane, butter…wait, what?

My mind keeps drifting, like the small snowballs swirling at my feet driven by an alien gust. My O2 levels are below normal, so I replace the canister with a fresh one. My head clears.

We reach the crest and look down the slope to find a marvel lying at the center of the valley.

Metric readings on my H.U.D. estimate the anomaly is over five clicks away—an exhausting hike on foot in this heavy snow. I activate jack’s sled function and the mecha transforms into a smoother, flattened version of himself.

The wind whips up a curtain of snow, the ice particles hindering visibility as we zip down the slope. Once the terrain levels off, the ride and view become much more agreeable. My breath is taken away as we approach an arch made of aqua, rose and citrine crystals.

A massive, shimmering dome just beyond us undulates with aurora unlike anything seen by human eyes. And that’s when I see the first one out of my peripheral vision before passing out.

***

When I wake up, I slowly realize I’m lying on a mossy floor inside the dome. Jack is nowhere in sight. As my vision clears, I’m startled to see my helmet on the ground beside me.

The air is impossibly breathable. It’s cool, but fresh, with a strange sweetness to it—almost spicy.

Jack appears from a small dwelling holding a silver platter. On it sits a cup of hot chocolate…and a loaded baked potato.

I see more of them now—small creatures that resemble…children? Their skin glistens. They have multiple arms.

As I’m surrounded by these alien—elves?—I can’t help but smile in astonishment. I say to them “Please take me to your leader”.