EXPLORE THE UNIVERSE WITH KEEK

Lurnik Log 001 — Arrival

I made it. A whole planet.

This is my Arcday journey, the first question I have chosen entirely for myself.

“Go see what you need to see,” my Tarin told me when he gave me the Nakaru.

He did not tell me how long.

We return when the question begins to ask back.

I chose Lurnik, the stone that sings late. It has been sitting in the dark, humming to itself, waiting for a listener.

My friends did not understand. They laughed and asked what I expected to find on a world so young and unformed. Salaris has mapped half the galaxy. Why choose the one corner everyone forgot?

“Too much weather,” they warned. “Primitive.”

I told them Lurnik might test me. Salaris keeps everything balanced, even the air. I wanted to step outside that balance and let an untamed world press against the edges of Circuit One. Perhaps, if I listened properly, it might move me closer to Circuit Two.

They seemed satisfied with that answer. I was not. There was more to it, but I did not yet know what.

The only problem is that no Salaran has visited Lurnik since Thalara made the crossing. No updated field harmonics, no navigation lattice, not even a working Drift-mesh map. I had to rely on the lone Drift anchor she left behind.

The anchor must have shifted. Or perhaps the ground beneath it had not stayed where it once was. I emerged from the jump too high. The Nakaru did not react well, and I came down in a field.

So yes, I crashed. At least it was not water.

The Nakaru is stable now.

The hatch opens.

I step outside. Gravity presses its hand on my shoulder, firm and unsmiling.

The grass reaches my waist. It surrounds me in every direction, thick and soft, rising and falling like waves. When I move forward, the grass parts and stays parted behind me, a faint path pressed into the field, remembering the contact.

Somewhere close, something brushes past the stems. Something chirps, sharp and quick. Farther away, something splashes. The sounds overlap without order. I cannot tell what is small, what is fast, and what might be watching.

I suppose I should stay alert. A dinosaur might jump out at any moment.

As the sun falls, true darkness comes. It is a rare thing for a Salaran; our twin suns and the glow of our gas giant keep us in a state of eternal half-wakefulness. But the night here closes its hand completely.

I sit on the roof of my ship and watch the stars return one by one. The spiral arm glows like a river of fire pinned to black. Somewhere among those dots lies Salaris. I am out of signal range, alone in the dark.

My explorer friends say every planet has a voice. If Salaris hums like a choir, then Lurnik murmurs like a crowd that has not decided whether or not to welcome me.

My head hurts. I cannot tell if it belongs to this planet, or if I brought it with me.