John and Lewis collapsed onto cold, cracked stone, their bodies responding with sharp pain, as if from a fall from a height. The stone beneath them was hard, with a rough surface, covered with a thin layer of orange dust that rose in a small cloud from the impact.
John was the first to come to, his head buzzing, muscles aching from the sudden fall. He sat up, squinting at the light, and looked around, feeling a light breeze brushing his face, carrying dryness and warmth.
The sky above them blazed with bright, blinding light, its shades smoothly transitioning from orange to crimson, as if this planet was enveloped in an eternal sunset.
"It's kind of hot here…" John said, his voice sounding hoarse, as if his throat had dried out from a single breath. He rubbed his temples, feeling sweat already beginning to trickle down his forehead. Rosana's atmosphere was completely different from their native world: the air here was dry and light, almost weightless, making breathing easier, but it burned the lungs, as if containing traces of minerals or gases unfamiliar to the human body. Gravity was weaker, making every movement lighter but deceptive—the body felt as if it were floating, which could lead to miscalculations of strength. Lewis, lying nearby, slowly rose, his hands pressing into the stone, which was warm, heated by the sun.
Looking around, they realized they had landed on a flat, cracked plain, colored in faded shades of orange, where cracks in the ground gaped like wounds on the planet's skin. The horizon was close, as if Rosana was compact, compressing the space around them—an effect possibly caused by the dense atmosphere or the curvature of the surface. Across the plain rose tall, multi-armed plants resembling cacti, their stems fleshy, covered with thick, green bark, and their offshoots stretching upward like fingers, casting sharp purple shadows on the orange sand. The wind, dry and hot, gliding between them, carried dust that settled on the skin, leaving a salty taste.
Lewis and John looked around again, as their eyes adjusted to the bright light, and cautiously moved forward. Their steps were strangely light, almost floating—Rosana's gravity, about 20% weaker than Earth's, made every movement easier but required the body to adjust to avoid losing balance. The soil beneath their feet treacherously crumbled, sucking their boots a couple of inches with each step; its texture was loose, like fine sand mixed with minerals that gleamed in the sun. Lewis felt his muscles gradually adapting, while John was already calculating how this gravity affected biomechanics—plants here could grow taller, and animals could move more easily.
Lewis touched the nearest cactus, its surface rough, almost leathery, and at his touch, the plant came to life: its fleshy offshoots stirred, revealing long, predatory needles that slowly reached toward his hand, as if sensing moisture. John grimaced and kicked the cactus with his boot, its sole crunching against the flesh, and a clear, cool liquid gushed from the break, instantly forming a puddle in the sand.
"What a disgusting thing," he muttered, stepping back and wiping his boot on the stone. The plant, obviously adapted to the arid climate, had stems serving as water reservoirs, collecting it from the atmosphere during cooler times of the day.
They walked for about half an hour, weaving between the cacti, whose shadows lengthened as the sun moved. The landscape remained monotonous, but it held a logic: the cacti didn't just grow randomly but formed natural reservoirs where the water they collected could flow into the cracks in the soil, irrigating it. After walking a few more miles, Lewis suddenly froze, his gaze fixed on the ground with interest.
"John, look here," he crouched, slapping his knee, his fingers sinking into the loose earth. "Do you see? The soil here… it's like it's been tilled."
"Are you kidding?" John leaned down, and his eyes widened: the ground was loosened in even strips, and the cacti grew in orderly rows, as if planted for maximum water collection. This suggested artificial origins—an ancient irrigation system where the plants served as living pumps, collecting moisture and distributing it through dried channels, creating artificial irrigation.
A couple of steps later, John stumbled upon a flat stone slab with a metal ring, resembling bronze, embedded in it, with a fragment of an old chain, decayed by time. Lewis ran his hand over it, feeling the cold of the metal.
"John, do you realize what this is?" he asked, squinting thoughtfully.
"It looks like a field. Like how we grow food on Earth, here they grow water. But what's with this ring?"
"It's a mooring. Obviously, we're standing at the bottom of an ancient channel that dried up. They use these strange water-filled plants for irrigation. Right now, they're probably just collecting it—dry season."
In the distance, a bird with a wasp-like body and huge wings took flight, its buzzing echoing across the plain. John instinctively reached for his pistol, but Lewis stopped him, gripping his wrist.
"Don't waste bullets; we'll need them. It's not attacking."
The cacti grew taller, their spiky greenery closing into a wall, filling the air with a sweetish smell. From underfoot, lizards with bright scales—orange, blue, red, with jagged crests like miniature dinosaurs adapted to low gravity—darted into the thickets. Sometimes, spiky balls rolled out from the thorns with a hiss. Finally, the thickets parted, revealing a white, sloping shore of smooth stone slabs, their seams perfectly fitted, as if made by a laser. One of the slabs gleamed with another ring, and around it, lizards basked, their scales shining in the sun, completely ignoring the strangers.
The friends climbed onto the shore, their steps echoing loudly on the slabs. The plain stretched further for many miles, and along the channel, piles of stones—remnants of structures covered in dust and moss—were visible. The mooring with the ring hinted at an abandoned settlement that once thrived by the water. To the northwest, dark red mountains rose, their jagged peaks resembling frozen flames.
"We need to stop and rest," John said, his voice hoarse from thirst. "It looks like no one's here."
They set up camp, lighting a fire with dry fragments of old, withered cacti. They ate sparingly, conserving supplies—the prospect of hunger in this alien world was frighteningly real. Lewis went down to the channel and, as one would tap trees for sap on Earth, cut a cactus with his knife. A stream of water gushed out, quickly filling his canteen. After a brief hesitation, he took a small sip; the water was clean, with a mineral taste and slight saltiness, but it quenched thirst. John, though protesting, couldn't resist and took a sip too, feeling the coolness spread through his body.
After resting, they set out to explore the settlement, but navigating through the ruins proved harder than expected. Stone blocks overgrown with moss and collapsed walls formed a labyrinth where every step was accompanied by the crunch of gravel. Desolation reigned everywhere: no signs of life, no hints of recent presence. The air was heavy, smelling of dust and rust, and the silence pressed, broken only by the occasional rustle of the wind. Suddenly, John froze, his hand reflexively reaching for his pistol.
"There's someone there!" he shouted, crouching. "Hey, who are you?! Don't move!"
Lewis frowned, his gaze sliding over the thickets.
"Who are you shouting at?"
"Over there, to the right! Someone's sitting there!"
Now Lewis noticed a figure rummaging at the edge of the settlement. At John's shout, it flinched, jumped, and unfurled huge membranous wings, soaring into the crimson sky.
John aimed, but Lewis knocked the pistol from his hands; the weapon clattered dully against the stone.
"Are you out of your mind?! That's a sentient being!"
John stared up in shock. The flying creature circled in the bright red sky. Lewis raised his hand and waved in greeting.
"You should be more careful," John muttered. "What if it's armed?"
The flying creature began to descend, and now it was clear: it was controlling a machine with dragonfly-like wings and a spinning propeller in front. The device seemed alive, as if fused with the pilot, its metal gleaming in the sun, and the mechanism hummed like an insect. The creature swooped to the ground, landing thirty paces away, and jumped off the seat. It was humanoid but with a very thin, fragile body, brick-red skin, and huge blue eyes shining like sapphires. Its body structure was clearly influenced by the weak gravity, where a robust physique would be excessive and likely a hindrance on this planet.
Its clothing consisted of a loose jacket fluttering freely in the wind and light woven shoes on its feet. It gestured angrily, pointing at the broken cacti, but noticing John's movement—who, compared to its frail figure, seemed like a true giant—it jumped back onto the machine, waved a long finger threateningly, took off, then immediately landed again, continuing to shout at them in a high-pitched, shrill voice, pointing at the damaged plants.
"Looks like it's upset with us," Lewis said, shouting to the Rosanan, "We don't need your damn cacti, stop yelling, my head's already hurting from crossing universes."
"Lewis, fine, it's upset, we probably damaged its property, but why are you arguing with it? It doesn't understand English. Sit down, or it won't come closer."
And the friends sat on the hot ground of the alien world. John decided to first address the pressing question of what they would eat in this world and began gesturing that he wanted to drink and eat. Lewis, still upset that the alien had yelled at him, turned away and spat. The Rosanan stared at them for a while but eventually stopped shouting, still angrily waving a long, pencil-thin finger at them. Then, taking a bundle from the machine, it tossed it toward the humans, circled up to a great height, and, quickly heading toward the mountains, disappeared beyond the horizon.
Where the creature had flown from, a bundle resembling a sack remained, thrown to the friends. Lewis picked it up, feeling the rough fabric smelling of dust and herbs. Inside were two metal boxes, cold and smooth, and a woven flask. John opened one box with his knife—it contained a jelly with a sharp, chemical smell. The other held transparent pieces resembling chocolate but with a pungent aroma.
"Good Lord, what do they eat? Where's the meat? Fruit?" John muttered, his voice full of disappointment.
They decided not to touch the alien food yet and lit a fire, heating their Earth supplies. The flames hissed, consuming the dry cacti. Soon they were eating, enjoying the hot food. Now there was no need to ration—they knew there was food in this world. When John tried the contents of the flask, his face changed.
"Lewis, try this. It feels like a fine wine."
The liquid was thick, sweetish, with a strong nutmeg aroma. It filled the body with warmth but didn't cloud the mind. After eating their tasty, hot Earth food and sipping the alien wine, they lay down to rest.
Lewis, lying on his back, stared at the alien sky.
"What a day…"
John laughed:
"No regrets about coming with me?"
"Not yet," Lewis replied. "But it's only the beginning; let's see what happens next…"
After resting and a brief discussion, they decided to return to the shore. Now their steps were more confident, their jumps longer, their bodies adapting to the low gravity. Their steps were almost springy, and their bodies felt lighter, allowing them to cover distances faster but requiring caution.
The ruins of the settlement were everywhere: collapsed walls of slabs with perfectly fitted seams hinted at a high-tech past—possibly laser processing or energy tools.
But suddenly, Lewis froze, his back covered in cold sweat. From behind the green thickets, two huge eyes stared at them, ominously narrowed. The next moment, a creature burst from the thickets—massive, the size of a dog, brown-striped, on eight long legs covered with stiff bristles. A spider, enormous and unearthly, rushed toward them, its fangs gleaming in the sunlight, its fat, heavy body moving with terrifying speed despite the gravity. The air filled with its hissing. This was a Rosanan predator, adapted to a world where gravity allowed such creatures to be giants, its faceted eyes reflecting the friends like mirrors. John drew his pistol and fired; a furious screech rang out, and the creature, sharply turning, disappeared into the thickets.