The Beacon

Astronaut John Osborne flashed a worried glance at the datafix. The statistics stared him in the visor; the digital lines seemingly mocking him, daring him to address his situation: He was running low on supplements, his life support system was failing and he was alone on a hostile alien planet. Somewhat cruelly, a prolonged beep sounded, alerting him to the fact that, inexplicably, the purity of the atmosphere had just decreased significantly. As he leapt off in the weaker gravity of the alien world in search of a safer location, he reflected on the sequence of events which had led to his current sorry state.
As a member of the celebrated Genesis Mission: Phase 1, John had undergone rigorous mental and physical training and preparation for the landing on the relatively unexplored planet of Krepta. He was not a colonist - as were none of his late colleagues. The authorities saw no need for colonization until the planet’s every secret had been discovered. Studies of satellite and orbital data could only do so much - their job was to conduct detailed field exploration to ascertain the planet’s habitability.
From the time the Genesis had entered the planet’s atmosphere, Murphy’s law came into force with a vengeance. Loss of lateral thrusters and contact with mission control was followed shortly after by a crash landing. Ironically, these were mere arbiters of the ship’s ill fate - as far as John knew, all but one of the twenty-one cosmonauts had survived the crash. Now he was the only one left.
He remembered with a slight sense of panic how easily three of the first sortie of ground-level explorers were lost on the first geological survey. One moment, they were there, the next the blips on the radar screen faded away, as did their voices. Their disappearances were attributed to the many crevasses which littered the planet’s rocky alien terrain. With some consternation, the memories of his trepidation on venturing out with the third batch came back to haunt him - two of the first casualties had been his friends. In hindsight he realized that he was probably still alive because he had left the ship when he did.
Apparently, one of the rock samples which had been brought in to the ship by the survivors of the first sortie had quickly contaminated most of the ship with a plague-like clinicalism despite the most sophisticated precautions. On his return he had found most of his colleagues dead, and the others in paroxysms of agony. The shielded filters of his exploration suit, which he had neglected to take off, had saved him. The other two surviving members of his sortie had been rewarded for their zeal in returning to base by infection. Their doffed suits still lay next to their twisted bodies in the airlock; contaminated as they were by the alien disease.
His nostalgia was interrupted by a glint that enticed the corner of his eyes enough to make him turn his head. A large glowing structure, partially obscured by the terrain met his eyes. Granted, the planet had been considered uninhabited before, but in this first sign of intelligent life - the structure was definitely not naturally occurring - John saw shelter and safety. Ignoring the irony of the situation, he focused on his immediate concerns first - his datafix still indicated that he had not escaped the poisonous gas as yet! If he had to go anywhere, why not towards the Thing? If nothing else it provided him with a goal and broke the infinite monotony of orange rock and dark crevasses. Perhaps he could even find something there that could help him.
As he crested the final hill, John had to block the light with his hand; even through his visor it was dazzling. He was able to discern that the light, while being emitted from the structure, did not appear to have any fixtures or fittings connected to it. He could only guess, but it seemed to be a beacon of some sort. The thought loomed large; a beacon for lost, weary travelers where food, rest and drink could be obtained. It was too much to ask of this alien world, but it stood like a beacon of hope on the horizon. After all, where there is life, there is hope.
Brightening, he took bold leaps towards the beacon…

* * * *

This particular pest had been a tenacious little critter; it had survived the toxic granules that Evin Zorr had scattered in the expectation that one of its kind would have taken it to the nest. It had been running from the spray, but predictably, it fell into the simple trap which had been laid. Like a moth to the flame, it had followed the light.
The Kreptan rubbed his antennae in satisfaction as the photovoltaic terminator zapped the bizarre creature, leaving only a black smudge on the ground.