Episode NotesA crew has landed on a new planet hoping to find sanctuary, but what they find is a monstrosity beyond all earthly imagination.The Faithful by David O'HanlonMusic by Ray Mattishttp://raymattispresents.bandcamp.comProduced by Daniel WilderGet Cool Merchandise http://store.weeklyspookySupport us on Patreon http://patreon.com/IncrediblyHandsomeContact Us/Submit a Storytwitter.com/WeeklySpookyfacebook.com/WeeklySpookyWeeklySpooky@gmail.comThis episode sponsored by HenFlix.comFor everything else visit WeeklySpooky.comTranscription:“How long has it been since the gods answered a prayer?” Rayburn Halsey checked his watch. It was still on Mars time and had been for thirty-seven years since the flight began. “More than six hours, that’s for sure. For thousands of years, every culture on Earth reported interactions with gods. And then one day, they just stopped talking to us. Go to your room, Creation. You’re grounded. Maybe we had it coming.” Halsey sipped the juice packet and stared at the planet on his monitor. Swirling clouds obstructed any view of the surface, just as they had since their arrival. He tapped his fingers nervously on the console. “Pilot Amber Mitchell deployed to the surface of Baron-117 exactly five-hours ago. According to our most recent calculations, we have less than twenty-six weeks of supplies. There are nineteen planets and thirty-seven moons in the quarantine zone. That’s not counting four outlying planetoids. Historical records are shady, to say the least. Five-hundred years will do that. We must take the chance that whatever our forebears were afraid of didn’t cover the entire system. It’s illogical to even think it could.”The door dilated behind him and Mike Delaine leaned in. “Any word from Mitchell?”Halsey flicked off the flight recorder. “Preliminary numbers look good. It’s cold, but above freezing. The atmosphere is breathable for the most part. Helium levels are a little higher, oxygen a little lower, so I want helmets on. I’m adjusting the ship’s gravity slowly to match surface numbers. I don’t want anyone face planting as soon as we hit the ground.”“Does that mean we’re going?” Delaine’s question was stained with uncertainty.“Got any other ideas? We’re still thirteen months from our destination. We have a hold full of colonists that need to properly defrost. If we wait any longer, we’re not going to have the supplies to do that. I’m not murdering two-thousand people because something went wrong out here during the Dark Age of Space. Records show three planets and two moons were affected by the incident, but that’s about all we’ve got to go on. It literally says ‘the incident’ with no further information.”“A lot of records were lost during the War. People rushed to save our history and our art and forgot about things like NASA communication records.” Delaine shook his head and sighed. “Kind of wish that were the other way around right about now. I mean, whatever it was made them quarantine an entire solar system and we’re smackdab in the middle of it all. But hey,” Delaine clapped his hands together, “at least I saw that Warhol painting of some soup cans.”“Yeah.” Halsey stretched in his seat. “I’m going to start waking the rest of the crew. Prep the dropship, we’re going down to help Amber establish a landing zone.”“We’re not even waiting for them to wake up?”“You want to sit here for another thirty-six hours babysitting popsicles? We need to get down there and make sure we have a place to set down. The Eden module flies a little better than a dog in a jetpack, so I want to make sure we have a very wide margin for error.” “Sure thing.” Delaine walked outside into the corridor and turned back. “Hey, Rayburn.”“Yeah?”“Do you think anyone will ever find us?”The automated door closed before Halsey could tell him no. Maybe gods did still answer prayers. The dropship rocked on its landing struts. Halsey and Delaine watched through the viewscreen as the orange-brown dust settled and gave them th