A subtle alarm resonates in my earpiece just as I begin to drift into the deserved embrace of sleep. Leia signals that the reconnaissance droids have reached the location of the massive life form detected earlier. My heart races as I connect to the visual feed of the lead unit.

The camera displays an immense clearing, a crater spanning several hundred meters, surrounded by gigantic trees whose canopies disappear into a light mist. At the center of this opening lies a colossal creature, resting peacefully. My eyes widen in astonishment at the unexpected sight.

It’s a dragon.

A being straight out of legends and fantasy tales. Its size defies imagination, easily exceeding 50 meters in length. Its scales shimmer in a mix of dark and silvery hues, reflecting the dim ambient light. Even folded, its wings look capable of generating powerful winds. A muscular tail coils around its massive body, and its head, adorned with elegant horns, rests on its clawed forelimbs.

I sit speechless, staring at the images on my screen. How is this possible?

“Leia, analysis. What can we determine about this creature?”

Leia’s typically impassive voice carries an almost hesitant tone.

“Admiral, the creature partially matches mythological descriptions of 'dragons' from human cultures. However, its vital signs indicate a real and functional biology. Preliminary analysis: endothermic organism, powerful cardiovascular system, unknown capabilities. Recommendation: avoid direct contact until more information is gathered.”

I am overwhelmed by a multitude of emotions: wonder, confusion, and a tinge of unease. If dragons exist here, what does that imply about the nature of this world? Where in the hell have I landed? This thing radiates the energy of a nuclear reactor, and judging by the footprints we found previously, it was awake not too long ago.

I instruct Leia to conduct detailed observation. The droids remain hidden at the edge of the clearing, their sensors focused on the creature. They collect data on its slow breathing, the subtle movement of its muscles, and even faint energy fluctuations around its body. One droid zooms in on the dragon’s head, revealing closed eyes with rapid movements beneath the lids. It’s sleeping.

“Leia, do you detect any similar life forms in the area?”

“No comparable signatures detected within a ten-kilometer radius. This entity is unique within our current field of analysis.”

Thank God. At least I don’t have multiple monsters like this to deal with—though even one is more than enough.

I think quickly. This creature could represent an immense danger but also an opportunity to learn more about this world. Assuming, of course, it’s not hostile—and given that my ship literally wrecked its forest...

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Possibilities flood my mind. The droids could attempt to collect samples from a distance or install sensors to monitor its movements. But the risk of waking it is real, and I have no idea how it might react.

I can’t believe it. How could such a gigantic creature remain motionless through the absolute chaos of my ship’s crash? The fiery shockwaves, the impacts, the forest fires—all of that should have woken it, driven it away, or at least elicited a reaction. Yet here it is, still asleep. Or perhaps unconscious.

The droids’ sensors zoom in on its massive body, revealing troubling details. Several patches of its scales are dented or missing entirely, exposing dark, leathery flesh. Wounds.

Fragments of Colossus metal are lodged between its scales, some melted as if exposed to extreme heat. My ship must have struck this creature during its descent, or perhaps it was directly in the path of the impact.

A strange tension grips me. Is this dragon merely a victim of our arrival in this world? Damn it, this doesn’t bode well. Either it’s so injured that it’s dying, or it’s going to harbor a deep hatred for whatever caused such harm.

Soon after, another reconnaissance report arrives. A massive debris field has been discovered further north. My droids confirm that this area contains a large concentration of Colossus fragments, including identifiable sections: residential quarters, shattered cryogenic pods, and parts of the outer hull.

This confirms my worst fears. The ship broke apart long before it hit the ground. The unstable gravitational fields of the black hole must have torn it into pieces before the remnants crashed onto this strange, infinite surface. So my fellow colonists, all dead, lie in the north. My jaw immediately tightens at the thought, I might not be able to recover them anytime soon.

“Leia, analyze the trajectory of the debris. Could the dragon have been struck by falling sections?”

Leia responds after a moment of calculation.

“Probability of direct collision between the dragon and debris fragments: 92.6%. Thermal data also indicates that the debris on its body originates from high-integrity structural materials, likely armor or propulsion sections. Hypothesis: the creature was struck by high-velocity fragments during atmospheric entry.”

I clench my jaw. The Colossus crash hasn’t just destroyed human lives; it’s literally scarred a part of this world in its passage.

I return to the visual feed of the droids still observing the creature. With this new information, an idea slowly forms in my mind: the dragon might be unconscious because of its injuries. If that’s the case, it would explain why it hasn’t reacted to the impact or the presence of the droids.

However, this raises an even more troubling question: what happens when it wakes up?

A creature this massive and powerful could pose an existential threat to everything I’m trying to build. If it decides to destroy my base or my droids, I’ll have no way to stop it. Yet at the same time, it could be an invaluable source of information about this world—perhaps even, in some impossible scenario, an ally.

I must think carefully about my next steps. Several options lie before me:

I could examine its injuries, as I know nothing about it, I could better assess the creature’s condition and possibly collect samples. However, this carries a huge risk: if it wakes suddenly, it might attack.

I also consider exploring the northern area could reveal more information about the crash’s impact and potentially critical Colossus fragments, such as survival modules or data systems.

But for now, my mind races, and I think the dragon represents too great a potential danger. Focusing on securing the base and salvaging Colossus resources might be a more pragmatic priority.

I lean against a console, my hands gripping my temples. This isn’t fair. This world didn’t ask for me to be here, yet my arrival has already broken it, just as it shattered the millions of lives now lying beneath the debris.

And yet, I can’t afford to be paralyzed by guilt. This dragon could be an obstacle or a key to survival in this place. Everything depends on how I choose to play this hand.