Zeta Minor Gravesite

A windswept expanse of cracked, gray soil stretches beyond the landing site, littered with human remains reduced to desiccated husks. The air carries the faint metallic tang of decay and the oppressive silence of an abandoned battlefield. Desiccated fingers of thorned vegetation claw at the edges of the clearing, their leathery leaves rattling against each other like skeletal bones in the brittle wind. The horizon offers no shelter—only the endless, desolate plain and the looming shadow of the Morestran space probe, its hull groaning under the weight of an unseen predator’s attention. The unnatural stillness presses in on the Doctor and Sarah, their footsteps kicking up small clouds of dust that refuse to settle, as if the planet itself resists disturbance.