The Rust

Brittle

'Xanti, get out here quick; the Human ship's arriving just like the Elder said it would!'

Thousands of Kril residents stood, packed side by side in the streets with little to no space between them, just how they liked it. Their faces were tilted towards the hazy heavens with glowing, unblinking eyes attuned to telescopic sight.

By Human standards, Xanti, the young Prince, was ancient, six-hundred and thirty-seven years old, but compared to his people, he was an infant. He acted like it, too; he was impulsive, restless and quick to judge, certainly not the sort of person they'd want leading hot-button negotiations with the ever-imposing Humans.

Xanti's father had given him no choice in the matter, though, no doubt hoping this task would force him to grow up. Not likely. 'Say, mother, I hear those Human-creatures only have two arms and do little more than eat food and sh-'

'Xanti! You represent the entire Grarlix family today since your father's away, and I won't have you starting another conflict that we can't hope to win.'

Before Queen Isa Grarlix could scold her son further, the sounds of grating metal filled the air causing them both to stare at the sky in horror.

'Those ignorant fools! How many times did we say not to enter our atmosphere?! They were supposed to stay in orbit!'

Xanti had only been eighty years old when the first ship crashed, a mysterious craft that'd thrown caution to the wind as its desperate crew sought landfall. Little had they known that the Iron mineral in their ship would flash to a shell of rust in a matter of minutes.

There'd been no survivors of that alien ship, and to this day, only a section of its circular bridge remained as a brutal reminder of the past.

Now the humans were making the same mistake. Their ship could no longer remain airborne, and its once pristine hull had become pitted and scarred as though it'd seen combat.

External speakers on the ship suddenly crackled to life. It's crew were wailing like banshees as if their pleas could have made a difference.

'Stop this madness, you Kril bastards. You have no right-'

The Human ship ceased all communication as it blindly plummeted through the planet's atmosphere. And every metre it fell, the browning trail of rusting metal appeared to darken.

As the winds picked up, the doomed ship began to flake away piece by piece. The Kril hadn't had the chance to warn the humans of the coming storm, and now several tornadoes were systematically snagging the falling debris.

'What should we do, mother?'

Isa bared her teeth. 'We take shelter, and we prepare for war. The Humans think we did this.'