Day 1
While my arrival on planet S2215C was planned, the crash landing was decidedly not. The jolt of it was powerful enough that my teeth clattered together on impact and left a pulsing pain on the left side of my mouth. I am quite certain I broke a tooth, a molar, but there is little to be done about it now. There are no doctors aboard the Space Explorer Patience, no people at all, except for me, Dr. Charmaine Brunnelle, pilot, sole passenger, and intergalactic emissary of Earth. It is a mouthful of a title that could easily be reduced to "lonely astronaut-widow" without losing much meaning. After all, what do words truly mean, what is language, without communication? Like that old saying about trees falling in the forest.
My stated mission was to determine whether Earth's flora and fauna could well survive, if not thrive, on this smaller, intergalactic satellite circling a hot, blue star. In all the thousands of photographs of Bode's Galaxy and S2215C taken before my mission departure, not one photograph could reasonably conclude the habitability of the small planet. I had begun to sweat before I put on my spacesuit, but I was unsure whether from the heat or the excitement of a visible tree out the tiny window.
On first look, the dusty, gray planet with dappled topography resembled Earth's moon. However, my first steps on the surface negated any further lunar comparisons. The ground was spongy and soft, moss-like, though obtaining a sample of the material was impossible against the present force of gravity. I attempted to peel back the sponge-like roll of sod, but it appeared to be one solid and impenetrable mass. The effort of the attempt was immediately exhausting, so I stood awhile and stared out into the swirling, spiral galaxy. Not one singular instance in all my years on Earth made me feel as small as I did while standing on a moonless terrestrial planet beneath the star-crusted expanse of a far vaster universe than aeronautics could measure, vaster even than I dared imagine.
The atmospheric chemistry instrument built into my helmet confirmed the presence of sufficient oxygen levels such that I lifted my visor for a few minutes to breathe in the dusty, stifling air. I could have wept at the sweetness as I gulped down long breaths that hadn't been continuously filtered and recycled for 26 years. The cerulean sun beat down relentlessly without wind to buffer the heat, but the breathable air alone was enough to justify the mission. The presence of a tree, even the lone arbor in the immediate vicinity, was a victory for flora.
My body is heavy and tired, the aftermath of deep-space hibernation followed by the shock of a gravitational force four times that of Earth. Tomorrow, I shall search for water and determine sample collection methods on this strange gray dot beyond the telescope.
Tonight, I sip from a champagne flute and rest my bones in satisfactory solitude.
Signing off,
CB