The Orange One greets me with fog

The encounter was harsh.

The landing was rough. Black peaks, carved by the wind like blades, surround us. Geysers hiss from the ground, corroding the rocks.

The air whistles. I can hear it in my spacesuit—as if the planet were breathing, licking the rocks.

It's beautiful here. But dangerous.
I'll take a few measurements and then return to orbit.