Ralph shook his head. He could not go back to the ship. His brother would find him wherever he tried to hide there. Sophia's eyes were everywhere.

He jumped down the edge of the shield and landed on the blackened soil.

The ground was crumbling and uneven, nothing like the solid smoothness of Hope's floors.

The first plants he reached were similar to grass as he knew it from the gardens in the ship. But with that, the similarities to earth vegetation ended.

A few meters from where he stood, there was something that looked like a square red table with a single, central black leg. It was even at the right height to serve as a stand-up desk. Except that it started to shiver and give off a menacing hum when he approached. He decided to keep his distance.

Warily making his way around the table, he walked towards a stand of reddish bushes. Looking down at the ground, he noticed that his every single step stirred up clouds of tiny, moth-like animals, some of them settling on his trousers.

Closer, the bushes did not really look like bushes, but more like thorny, entwined, black snakes covered with reddish spikes. Fortunately, they did not move. Did they? But their thorns and twisted bodies looked more threatening than the table, so Ralph gave them an even wider berth, walking on.

Sophia had reported an outside temperature of 25°C (77 °F), but under the glare of the sun, it seemed much hotter. The protective clothing and the weight of his pack did not help either. Sweat already covered his back. He considered taking off his jacket, but his trousers were now almost covered by the mini-moths, which made him quickly discard all thought to take off anything and to expose his skin to this world.

He continued, sweating more by the minute as he threaded his way through the red-spiked snake bushes. Some of them grew higher than his head.

He hated it here.

Ahead, there was an area of taller plants—a forest. He headed for the shade it promised.

The trees had tall, pale trunks that carried a canopy of green and red leaves. He welcomed the cool relief of the shade they offered as he reached them. And they formed a roof over his head, shielding him from that disturbingly infinite sky.

He stopped and studied his surroundings. The gaps between the trunks felt sinister and moody after the brightness of the open landscape.

Where were the animals?

Straight ahead, something moved and sparkled, brief flashes of light and gurgling noise.

Carefully, he took some steps towards it and recognized a surface of open, moving water.

A river.

Another thing he only knew from old movies.

He stepped closer. A humid smell emanated from it.

A splash made him turn his head to the left. Circular ripples expanded on the water's surface, quickly dissolving. There was nothing that might have caused them.

He knew of fish. They had some on Hope, in ponds, for food and for education. Hope's builders had decided that it was important for the passengers to maintain a first-hand knowledge of plant and animal life. He now wondered if that had been enough to prepare them for what awaited them here.

He heard another splash. Again, his eyes were too late, and there was nothing but the telltales of the quickly expanding and fading circular ripples on the surface.

Suddenly, the water broke in front of him, and he saw a pair of brown eyes in a bullet-shaped, black head. For a moment, Ralph just stared, bewildered, and the creature stared back at him. With a hiss, its short snout split open, revealing two rows of perfectly white and unpleasantly pointed teeth. With a plop, it dove back, vanishing in the muddy waters.

Its head had been about the size of Ralph's own, and too large for comfort. He got up to put some distance between himself and the river.

The feeling that his decision to leave Hope may not have been a wise one was growing stronger.