Today, we touched down on Pace, the “hidden jewel” of the Gliese 144 system. The landscape stretches out in a vast, sandy plain, punctuated by rocky outcrops and distant mountain ridges that shimmer under an alien sky. The air is thin but breathable; it has a metallic tang that catches at the back of the throat. There’s emptiness here, a silence that makes me feel both small and exhilarated. The team, mostly geologists and environmental scientists, set up our initial base near a natural rock formation we’ve dubbed “The Gateway.” It towers over us like an ancient monument, weathered by untold millennia of wind and sand.
As I stepped out onto the dust-covered ground, I couldn’t help but think of Earth and how far we’ve come. The others felt it too, a mixture of awe and anticipation. Tonight, we’ll rest, and tomorrow, the real work begins.
The morning was spent calibrating our equipment, and by midday, we ventured out in small groups. I led a team eastward, scanning the ground for mineral samples. The sand here isn’t quite like Earth’s; it’s finer, more like powder, and it clings to everything. Our boots leave faint imprints that quickly fade as the ever-present wind sweeps over the landscape.
We found traces of a mineral not yet documented in the European databases. It is a dark, crystalline substance embedded within the rocks. Yves, one of our geologists, speculates it could have unique magnetic properties. Collecting samples was harder than expected; the sand creates micro-storms that sting any exposed skin. Even through my gloves, I felt the prickling bite of this alien dust.
Back at base, the excitement and thrill in knowing that we’re the first humans to touch these stones, to breathe this air. We’re already mapping out areas to explore tomorrow.
Today, we headed west, following faint thermal readings picked up from orbit. After hours of trudging through the dust and grit, we came upon a vast field of fumaroles. These are cracks in the ground venting wisps of pale gas. The ground here is cracked and uneven, with a sulfuric smell that seeps through our masks. Every few moments, a geyser-like plume erupts, releasing steam and a faint, eerie glow.
Our instruments detected traces of xenon and a rare form of helium emanating from the vents, something almost unheard of in natural formations. Martin, our lead chemist, was beside himself with excitement, convinced we’re standing on a potential source of exotic elements. As night fell, the fumaroles cast an otherworldly glow across the plain, turning it into a surreal, luminous field. I sat with the team in silence, mesmerized by the landscape. It feels like we’re intruding on something sacred.
We woke to the distant rumble of a sandstorm on the horizon. By midday, it had reached us. The storm hit with a force our sensors had not anticipated. The winds howling and sand battering our base. The structure held, but the dust managed to seep in through every tiny gap, coating our equipment and skin in a fine, relentless layer of dust.
We huddled inside, watching the storm rage through the small, reinforced viewport. The sound was deafening, a low, constant roar that made conversation nearly impossible. For hours, we sat in silence, feeling the raw power of this planet. The storm passed by evening, leaving the landscape transformed. Rocks that had been exposed yesterday were now buried, and new formations had appeared, carved by the brutal winds. It’s a reminder that on Pace, the planet itself is unpredictable, shifting and reshaping with every breath.
The day after the storm, we ventured north toward a ridgeline we’d spotted from orbit. The hike was grueling, every step sinking into loose sand, but the view from the top was worth every ounce of effort. From the ridge, we could see the vastness of what we named the Euclides plains, punctuated by the occasional rock formation, stretching as far as the eye could see.
We spent hours surveying, taking samples, and capturing data. The rocks here are ancient, layered with sediments that speak of a long, tumultuous history. Yves discovered fossils embedded in one of the stones, strange spirals and patterns that hint at ancient microbial life. The realization really struck all of us, Pace isn’t just a barren rock. It’s a world with a history, with secrets hidden in every grain of sand.
Our final survey took us west, where we found something unexpected. It was a derelict structure, half-buried in the sand. It looked like it had been abandoned for years, maybe decades. Rusted, sand-swept metal and shattered glass lay strewn around, but the design was unmistakably human. Who had been here before us? And why had they left?
Inside, we found remnants of old equipment, solar panels, and a few scattered logs too damaged to read. Whatever happened here, it’s a mystery that time has mostly erased. The team was quiet as we gathered what little we could salvage. The thought that someone else had once stood here, had once stared out at this desolate landscape, made me feel strangely connected to the past. We may be the first sanctioned explorers, but we’re not the first to dream of understanding Pace.
As the sun set and we made our way back to base, I felt a deep respect for this planet. In a cliché alien way, Pace is beautiful, hostile, and filled with secrets that may take a lifetime to uncover. And as I looked out at the fading horizon, I knew one thing for certain, our mission here is just beginning to scratch the surface.
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Journal of Dr. Lucia Moretti: European Exploration Team on Pace