Carson’s dead. So is Briggs. It’s only me and Charlie left alive. I don’t know how much longer we can take it. The storms have been raging for days. We’re nearly buried in this cave. First, it was the sunset, clear, cool and red. Then the snow. Giant red crystals which came faster and faster. We made it here to this cave. Funny, but none of us remembered the cave when we first arrive here in this valley.

Nothing had prepared us for the fierce, midsummer storms on Orion. We don’t know how long the storm will last. They seemed to be a rare occurrence. This is only the third storm recorded

My mind drifts, how long have we been here. Three days? Four? We should have been able to survive for weeks. We have food and water, heat and air. Yet, the madness, I call it madness, whatever it came early.

Did I say that Carson’s dead? We found him two days ago, his finger around the trigger of a gun. A gun of exquisite design with a crystal barrel and elaborate scroll work. Yet it fell apart like it was a million years old when Charlie picked it up.

I did tell you that Carson’s dead, oh yeah, I just wrote that down. None of us killed him. The Faulkner injections told us that. You couldn’t lie after a Faulkner injection.

Then yesterday, Briggs. I found him in a side corridor. I must be going mad myself. It wouldn’t do to have the captain go mad. I didn’t remember a corridor to the left. But there it was. What was I saying? Oh, yes, Briggs. He was stabbed. I found him. He was still clutching an elaborately carved crystal knife. It had pierced his heart. He never made a sound. Not even when he fell. No prints on the knife but his. At least we couldn’t find any before the knife crumbled, just like the gun. Neither Charlie or I had ever seen the knife before finding it in Briggs’ body. Things keep coming and going. And the wind and the red snow. We’re all mad.

Charlie and I sit on the opposite sides of the fire listening to the storm. We’re all that’s left of the Third Expeditionary Forces to the Orion Cluster. We haven’t been able to find the other ships. Our instrument readings took us to a small crystal mountain range. But no ships, no bodies. Nothing. There should be 20 of us. But it’s just Charlie and me. Did I already say that? I feel like I’m repeating myself. Where was I? Oh yes, the Expeditionary Force there had been hope that our people would be able to migrate to this unnamed planet. Everything back home said that this would be a perfect world. But now, with the deaths… but I digress. My journal, when found, will tell of our last days. Hopefully, the people of Thalassas will learn from our deaths. What? What’s that Charlie? I can’t understand you. Charlie? He doesn’t answer.

I’m afraid to look across the fire. What will I see? Oh, God, Charlie. Dead. His throat cut. Where did he get the sword? It’s beautiful, look at the scroll work, the crystal handle. Funny, I don’t remember Charlie having a sword.

I’m alone. Well, Carson, Briggs and Charlie are here with me. But they’re dead. I’m still alive. Aren’t I? Yes, of course, I’m alive. I’m writing in my journal. The red crystals are still falling. The sky is still bright pink. Cool and hostile. The wind continues to howl. Or is it a shout? Do I hear laughter? Maybe I’m laughing. Did the cave just sigh?

A noise. What is that noise? It’s only the shifting sand. What’s that laugh? This world does not want us. Ha, Us! There’s just me. What can one Thalassan do? My journal, the wind blows its pages. It's only been four days.

What’s this, a silver and crystal vial? I can’t read the inscription. Where did this come from journal? I’m talking to myself.

If the storm doesn’t stop I’ll go mad. I’m mad already. My hand shakes as I lift the vial to my lips. Poison. I should have known. We didn’t bring a vial with us. Especially not one like this crystal and silver with such beautiful scroll work. There’s something I’m supposed to remember. A knife? A sword? What do these words mean?

“It is DEAD,” the wind says ceasing its angry speech with the cave.

“Yes, it is dead. They are all dead. We cannot allow the intruders to spoil our world as they have theirs,” whispered the crystal beings as they were carried by the wind pass the cave.

“They died by what they feared the most. It was not difficult to manufacture the instruments,” the cave being said as sand particles fell from the walls. The storm had stopped. The pink sky was clear. Crystal beings lay in red heaps around the mouth of the cave. Others covered the space ship.

Far away on Thalassa scientists listened to static. “The storm’s died down.” One said.

“I’m afraid we may have lost them also. The government will not let us send anymore. This is the fourth team we’ve sent. Why does the storm appear only once our people land?” the scientists looked at each other, shoot their heads and went out to meet a nervous press.