The soft sussuration of the landing gear is my wake-up call.
As I stumble from my sleeping harness, the lights of the flight deck blink at me, feeding streams of information to me, and by relay, back to my home. I review the data and determine that the surface appears stable.
I prepare to do the job I was sent to do, along with thousands of my brothers and sisters. Gathering intelligence about the inhabitants of this small blue-green planet is dangerous, but essential to the future of my race.
I nervously engage the drilling systems, and the ships systems whirr gently as the drill descends, breaking the skin of the host.
And as a giant hand comes down and swats my ship from existence, my final thought is, "Are we really THAT irritating?"
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