The water churned, and the predator rose—its segmented body uncoiling like a nightmare waking from the depths. Six razor-sharp, spider-like legs snapped outward with an audible crack, and its slit-like eyes gleamed yellow in the dappled light.

“What is that thing?” Clorita whispered, taking a step back.

“Something I don’t want to meet twice,” Zog muttered. “And let’s hope it’s not into tin cans.”

The creature’s barbed tail lashed out with terrifying speed. A flash of feathers burst into the air as a colourful bird caught mid-flight and dragged toward the predator’s waiting jaws. The predator's secondary mouth shot forward, followed by a sickening crunch as the bird vanished.

Then it stopped.

The predator froze mid-motion, its elongated skull tilting with an unnatural slowness. The slit-pupiled eyes did not move, but the air around it seemed to vibrate. A low, subsonic hum, almost imperceptible, reverberated through the clearing. It wasn’t just listening—it was feeling them, mapping their presence in ways they couldn’t understand.

Its barbed tail curled slightly, muscles coiling just beneath the armoured plating. The crew held their breath.

Then—too fast—the eyes snapped toward them, locking on like a trigger being pulled.

“We don’t have a name for it,” HALAT said, her voice eerily calm, “but it is clearly the apex predator of this ecosystem.”

“Great. Apex predators.” Clorita’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Just what every settlement needs.”

“It’s like a snake but with legs,” Zog added, his tone grim. “And it’s way too smart for comfort.”

“Irrelevant what it is called,” HALAT said firmly. “What matters is that we avoid being its next prey.”

Zog shot her a look. “Comforting. Really keeping the mood light.”

Clorita shrugged, her gaze fixed on the creature. “Just saying, Captain. If it gets a taste for shiny things, we might not make it back to the shuttle in one piece.”

The beast twitched, its barbed tail swaying ominously as though testing the air. Zog’s servos adjusted slightly, a subtle recalibration as he locked onto the towering predator. “Well, let’s make sure we’re not on the menu.”

Mariq stepped back, his webbed hands clenched tightly. “By the currents…”

“BOB, tell me you’re getting this,” Zog said, his voice low but urgent.

“Every detail, Captain,” BOB replied. “Based on observed behaviours and anatomical features, this organism represents a top predator in its ecosystem. Likely amphibious. Highly agile. Extremely dangerous.”

“No kidding,” Clorita muttered, her hand resting on her weapon. “I don’t want to know what it eats when it runs out of birds.”

The predator remained motionless, but its tail flexed ever so slightly as if adjusting for movement.

“It is assessing us,” HALAT said, her tone clinically detached. “It hasn’t been decided if we are food yet. Move slowly, and we might remain unappetising.”

“May?” Clorita hissed.

“Let’s not test that theory,” Zog said. “Back to the shuttle. Now.”

The crew edged backwards in sync, each step controlled—one wrong move, and the creature would lunge. Its muscles flexed beneath its plated hide, a predator weighing its options. Clorita’s fingers twitched over her weapon.

The beast shifted, its muscles rippling under its plated hide. Then, as if reality had swallowed it whole, it was gone. The water stilled too fast, unnaturally smooth—like it had never been disturbed at all.

As the group scrambled back to the shuttle, Mariq spoke softly, his voice trembling. “If that… thing lives here, how can my people ever hope to survive?”

Zog glanced at him, then at the serene landscape surrounding them. “That’s the million-credit question, Mariq.”

Inside the shuttle, BOB’s voice broke the silence. “Data from the encounter has been fully recorded and analysed. Captain, it is my professional opinion that this species poses a significant threat to long-term settlement.”

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“You don’t say,” Zog replied, sinking into his seat. “All right, Spark. Play back those heat signatures. Let’s see if this place has more surprises waiting for us.”

As the shuttle lifted off, the group stared out the viewport, the paradise below now carrying the heavy weight of doubt. The predator had only shown them one side of this world, but it was enough to remind them that beauty and danger often walked hand in hand.

Back aboard the Duj, the crew gathered around the central console as BOB began processing the data collected from their encounter with the massive predator. The holographic display lit up, projecting a three-dimensional model of the creature. Its serpentine body, sharp legs, and barbed tail rotated slowly in the air, every gruesome detail meticulously rendered.

Zog crossed his arms, scowling at the display. “Well, BOB, what’s the verdict? What kind of nightmare are we dealing with?”

BOB’s smooth voice responded with its usual detached precision. “Analysis complete, Captain. Comparative data indicates no match with any known species across recorded galactic databases. This organism appears to be unique.”

Clorita raised an eyebrow. “So it’s officially one of a kind. Fantastic. I’m sure the locals are thrilled.”

“I have taken the liberty,” BOB continued, ignoring her, “of assigning a provisional scientific designation to the creature for ease of reference: Scytherax Mariccus, named in honour of Elder Mariq, who first identified its movement.”

Mariq, standing nearby, blinked in surprise. “You’ve named that… thing after me?”

“Strictly as a taxonomic formality,” BOB replied. “It is customary to credit the observer in naming new species.”

Clorita smirked, nudging Mariq. “Congrats, Elder. You’re officially the namesake of a giant murder noodle.”

Mariq tilted his head thoughtfully. “It is… a dubious honour.”

Zog snorted. “Yeah, no way I’m calling it that. Too much of a mouthful. Snakeface. That’s what I’m calling it.”

Clorita burst out laughing. “Snakeface? Really, Captain? That’s the best you’ve got?”

Zog shrugged. “It’s descriptive. And I like it better than Scyther-whatever.”

“Scytherax Mariccus,” BOB corrected primly. “I must insist, Captain, that the official designation remains intact for scientific accuracy.”

“Sure,” Zog replied, waving a hand dismissively. “You call it whatever you want, BOB. Snakeface works just fine for me.”

The hologram continued to rotate, its glowing eyes and sharp limbs casting long shadows across the room. HALAT, observing quietly from the corner, spoke up.

“Regardless of its name,” she said, “its hunting behaviour suggests intelligence. If this is a lone hunter, we are fortunate. If it hunts in packs, this planet is uninhabitable.”

A heavy silence fell over the group.

Zog exhaled slowly, staring at the holographic display. The predator rotated in the dim light, its slit-pupiled eyes frozen mid-motion. The longer Zog stared, the more it felt like the thing was staring back. A trick of the hologram. Or not.

His circuits buzzed uncomfortably.

“Not today,” he muttered. Then, after a pause—“And maybe not ever.”

Below, the wilderness of the blue planet waited, patient and untouched. Watching.

“Yeah,” Zog muttered, draining the last of his LubriCoffee with a grimace. “Snakeface isn’t just top of the food chain—it is the food chain. Might have just saved us from making a very bad decision.”

Clorita leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. “Guess the planet’s not as much of a paradise as it looks. What’s next, Captain?”

Zog sighed, glancing at the hologram one last time. The Scytherax rotated in the air, its segmented body frozen mid-motion, its slit-pupiled eyes unblinking. Watching.

“Next, we figure out how to tell Mariq’s people this place is off the list. And then we move on. Snakeface can keep its little slice of paradise. We’ll find another.”

As the others moved away from the console, HALAT remained still, her mannequin-like form bathed in the blue glow of the hologram. The Scytherax’s image turned slowly, each gruesome detail of its razor-sharp limbs and barbed tail rendered flawless. With a flick of her fingers, she flipped the projection upside down, rotating it back to front. Her glowing eyes flickered faintly as she scanned for weaknesses.

“Spark?” Zog’s voice broke the silence. He leaned against the console, cradling his mug. “You planning to stare it to death, or are you cooking up something useful?”

Without looking at him, HALAT responded. “Analyzing vulnerabilities. If Mariq’s people insist on settling, they’ll need a strategy.”

Clorita snorted. “You think they’d stand a chance against that thing? Did you see what it did to that bird? One swipe, and it’s game over.”

HALAT’s head tilted slightly. “Every organism has an Achilles’ heel. A point of compromise in its anatomy or behaviour. It is simply a matter of identifying it.”

BOB’s voice chimed in. “The Scytherax’s primary strengths are its agility and predatory adaptations—particularly its legs and tail. These make it highly versatile on both land and water. However…” A pause hung in the air as the hologram zoomed in on the creature’s midsection. “Analysis suggests its central nervous system is concentrated in this region. A precise strike could incapacitate it.”

HALAT nodded. “This aligns with my observations. Additionally, the creature’s reliance on ambush tactics indicates a potential weakness in prolonged confrontations. If forced into a sustained engagement, its energy reserves may deplete rapidly.”

Clorita smirked. “So, what you’re saying is, if the Aqualians manage to poke it in just the right spot and don’t get eaten first, they might have a shot.”

HALAT turned the hologram again, unfazed. “An oversimplification… but not inaccurate.”

Mariq, who had been listening quietly, stepped forward. His reflective eyes shimmered with both hope and trepidation. “If we had the means to defend ourselves, perhaps we could coexist. But forcing a predator into a prolonged engagement is optimistic.”

Zog drained the last of his LubriCoffee, grimacing. “Optimistic is one word. Suicidal’s another. You think your people are ready for that, Mariq?”

Mariq hesitated, his webbed hands clenching slightly. “If this is our only chance at a home… we can’t turn away.”