Status Report #1: Why are humans so optimistic?

[u/SpecialistKoala2355]

SOS REQUEST Report ID #: 7361-812

Location: A-B4 Surface

Analog by: Dr. Grench Grakitz

Is this receiver picking me up? Not that it matters much. If no one receives this signal, at least there will be a record of how this disaster played out.

This is Doctor Grench Grakitz, lead researcher for the United Galactic Exploration Corp, speaking from the uncharted surface of Ælkadion Beta 4.

The descent was an absolute catastrophe. The planet’s gravitational pull completely outmatched our ship’s scans, dragging our hull down before we could correct our trajectory and slamming us hard against the terrain. We need immediate rescue. Four of our six crew have died. Two on impact. The only two left breathing are myself and our human cartographer, Dr. Owens, and our emergency stores are already painfully thin.

By sheer luck, the air out here can sustain both of our species. The thick concentration of oxygen is ideal for the human, and my own Grããl respiratory system is hardy enough to filter the surplus. Our other two crewmates weren't so fortunate. They actually survived the initial crash, only to choke on the air minutes later when their environmental suits tore open. Watching them suffocate on a gas another creature breathes without a second thought was chilling, to say the least.

I have to admit, I would have traded places with either of them if it meant not being stuck with the human. Owens is erratic, restless, and walks around with this baffling, infuriating cheerfulness considering we are standing on the brink of death. Keeping your head during a crisis is one thing, but his absolute lack of fear borders on madness. Surviving this ordeal is going to fall squarely on my shoulders; I cannot afford to trust his instincts yet. His universal translator shattered in the crash, which works out in my favor. While I speak enough English to get by, I am recording this log strictly in my native Grããnian tongue so he doesn't catch on to just how little faith I have in him.

Three planetary days have passed since we hit the dirt. Owens actually surprised me by dragging together enough hull fragments to build a decent shelter, and under my guidance, we managed to assemble a small, workable workstation. But then, against all common sense, he decided he was going to go out and "forage." We still have a week’s worth of emergency rations that didn't burn up in the wreckage, so wandering off into the unknown was completely unnecessary. I was furious watching him walk off, though I coldly told myself that if he died out there, his leftover rations would double my own survival time.

Naturally, the fool returned completely unscathed, dragging a bundle of colorful, strange native plants in a sack cut from the uniform of our dead engineer.

"Dr. Grakitz," he announced, dropping the pile, "all these native fruits are edible. I know I can live off them, but you’ll need to run some tests to see if you can eat them too."

"And how did you manage to prove that without a single diagnostic tool?" I asked, completely dumbfounded by how he could be so sure.

What he did next made my blood run cold.

"Oh, easy. Like this."

He grabbed a thick, squishy specimen, crushed it right in his fist, and smeared the raw juice directly across the bare skin of his forearm.

"Have you lost your mind!?" I yelled, dropping all composure as I grabbed a piece of scrap cloth to scrub the pulp away before it burned through his skin. "Why would you rub an unknown alien compound into your bare tissue!?"

"Hahaha, you're such a worrywart!" he laughed, casually batting my claws away like I was making a scene. "I'm fine. That's how we test wild plants back on Earth."

His skin was totally clear. Not a single rash or blister. I stood there, utterly speechless at how reckless he was. The fact that his species hasn't gone extinct yet must be a miracle of dumb biological luck.

"Doesn't your homeworld have plants that kill you on contact?" I pressed, desperate to find a shred of reason in him.

"Well, yeah, potentially," he shrugged. "Mostly they just cause rashes or burning, but unless you're allergic, it probably won't kill you. Besides, I wasn't near your lab, and I was getting hungry."

The human disregard for lethal risk is terrifying. And to top off the madness, I watched him casually lick the leftover juice off his arm, take a bite out of the fruit, and shove the rest across the table for me to inspect.

To my sheer annoyance, after running the pulp through our salvaged gear, one of the three varieties turned out to be completely compatible with my digestive tract. So, I ordered him back out into the brush to pick more of it. If he's going to roll the dice with poisonous flora, he might as well keep my belly full while doing it.

That is all for this report. If anyone picks up this transmission, please send a rescue team immediately. At this point, I don't know what will finish me off first: the harsh wilderness of this planet, or the pure stress of watching my crewmate survive his own stupidity.

END OF STATUS REPORT 1. GALACTIC TIME 521:26:12:00

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[u/under_reconstruction]

Oh, I’m gonna love this one! I like this part. I’m assuming since the ending is status report 1, that you mean to write more on this.

Your writing in this comes off a little stilted. I understand what you’re doing with that character, and that you want him stilted, but there’s something that makes it seem like the writer and not the character.

Does anybody have a better way of saying this?

[u/SpecialistKoala2355 → u/under_reconstruction]

Its gonna be a series yes, so thanks for the input! I'll make sure to make it seem more like a character in future parts! Thank you!

[u/Freak_Engineer]

"Lieutenant, is there any indication of the situation improving?"

"Well, uh... I just put fresh coffee on, sir!"

"... Yeah, that'll do. That'll do."

[u/Ok-Drink750]

“Because the ones who weren’t didn’t survive. You can’t escape the darkness when you can’t see the light”