Incoming

 

The television buzzed faintly in the corner of the dim living room, the kind of static-charged hum that made Phil’s teeth itch. On the screen, the anchorwoman struggled to maintain her composure, though the widening whites of her eyes betrayed her.

“Scientists have confirmed that the mysterious dark comets hurtling through our solar system are fragments of Planet Nine—a failed planet long believed to be a myth. And—” she hesitated, swallowing visibly, “—its core is still intact. Worse, it’s heading directly for Earth. NASA has described it as... ‘a gravitational anomaly with a deliberate trajectory.’”

Phil paused mid-sip of his flat soda, staring at the screen. “Deliberate trajectory? Did she just say this thing is aiming at us?”

Across the room, Carter sat hunched over a stack of canned soup, meticulously arranging them by expiration date. “I think the bigger issue here,” Carter replied, without looking up, “is that there’s an entire planet core about to hit us. The aim part is... what? Just extra flavor?”

Phil set his soda down, leaning forward in the threadbare recliner. "No, no, you don’t just gloss over that. Planets don’t aim, Carter. They’re not out here picking targets like some intergalactic sniper.”

“Well, apparently this one does.” Carter gestured vaguely toward the screen with a can of cream of mushroom. “I mean, we’re not exactly known for being great neighbors, Phil. Maybe Earth said something rude billions of years ago. Maybe this is karmic.”

On the television, the anchorwoman had been replaced by a panel of scientists—three of them, each looking more exhausted than the last.

“The fragments indicate that Planet Nine’s surface shattered during a catastrophic event,” one scientist said, pointing to a graphic of a black sphere surrounded by jagged shards. “But the core... The core is extraordinarily dense. It doesn’t behave like any known planetary object. Its trajectory—”

“Here it comes,” Phil muttered.

“—suggests some level of... intention.”

Phil threw his hands in the air. “And there it is! The planet’s alive! This is it, Carter. This is how it ends: crushed under the weight of a homicidal space marble.”

Carter sighed, finally looking up. “You think maybe we should be... I don’t know, doing something about this? Preparing?”

“Preparing for what?” Phil gestured around the room. “You’ve got soup. I’ve got chips. What else do we need? You want me to go outside and wrestle it?”

Carter frowned. “We could, I don’t know, build a bunker or something?”

“Carter, if the core hits, a bunker’s not going to save us. We’ll just die slightly more organized than the people aboveground.”

Carter opened his mouth to reply but stopped as his phone buzzed on the counter. He reached for it, squinting at the screen. “NASA just released an update. Says the core is exhibiting ‘behavioral anomalies.’ What does that even mean?”

Phil leaned forward again. “It means we’ve somehow offended a piece of rock so badly that it’s decided to seek us out personally. What do you think it’s going to do when it gets here? Demand an apology?”

Carter groaned, rubbing his temples. “You’re impossible.”

On the TV, the scientists had switched to discussing the possible outcomes of impact, each more apocalyptic than the last. One scientist—a woman with deep bags under her eyes—summarized grimly: “In short, if the core strikes Earth directly, it will obliterate everything in its path. However, there is a slim chance it might only graze us.”

Phil snorted. “A graze. Like this thing is going to politely clip our shoulder on its way by.”

Carter threw a can of soup at him. “Can you take this seriously for two seconds?”

Phil caught the can, smirking. “I am taking it seriously. Look, if we’re going to die, I’d rather spend our last hours laughing about it than panic-buying canned goods we’re not going to live long enough to eat.”


Outside, the sky darkened—not the gentle fading of dusk but a violent, unnatural blackness that pressed against the horizon. Phil and Carter stepped out onto the porch, squinting at the sky.

“What’s that noise?” Carter asked.

A low, resonant hum pulsed through the air, vibrating the beer bottles on the porch railing.

“It’s coming from... up there.” Phil pointed.

Above them, the clouds twisted and churned as if being pulled by unseen strings. And then it happened. A deep, echoing voice rang out—not from the television, not from any human source. It came from the Earth itself.

“I TOLD YOU TO STAY AWAY,” the voice boomed.

Phil blinked, stunned. “Did... Did Earth just talk?”

Carter’s jaw dropped as another voice answered, this one sharper, angrier, like grinding stone.

“YOU THINK YOU CAN BANISH ME FOREVER? YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME?”

“That’s... the planet core?” Carter whispered.

Phil grinned, unable to help himself. “Oh my god. It’s a fight. They’re having a fight.”

The Earth’s voice roared again, shaking the ground beneath their feet. “YOU DESTROYED YOURSELF! YOU THINK I’D LET YOU RUIN ME TOO?”

“I’M NOT DESTROYED!” Planet Nine’s core screeched, its glowing mass flickering in the sky like a furious star. “I’M EVOLVING!”

Phil snorted, trying to stifle a laugh. “This is better than cable.”

Carter grabbed his arm. “We’re in the middle of a cosmic domestic dispute, Phil! This isn’t funny!”

But Phil couldn’t stop laughing, tears streaming down his face as Earth bellowed, “EVOLVING? YOU’RE A PILE OF GRAVEL!”

“YOU SMELL LIKE FISH!”

The two voices continued to argue, their insults growing increasingly petty. Around them, the sky rippled with waves of energy, the air thick with static. Phil and Carter ducked as a crack of thunder exploded overhead, followed by a series of glowing fragments spiraling harmlessly into the atmosphere.

And then, as suddenly as it had started, the voices fell silent. The fragments of Planet Nine’s core veered away from Earth, dissipating into the void.

Carter stood frozen, wide-eyed. “Did... Did Earth just win?”

Phil clapped him on the shoulder. “Told you. Earth’s tough. You don’t mess with the home team.”

Carter shook his head, muttering. “I need therapy. Or at least a drink.”

Phil grinned. “Don’t worry. The Earth’s got our back. Even if it’s a bit... argumentative.”

And somewhere, in the vast quiet of space, Planet Nine’s core plotted its return.

As the remnants of Planet Nine's shattered surface—dark comets trailing like a defeated entourage—drifted away from Earth, faint, high-pitched voices echoed in the heavens. “Nice try, boss!” one comet snickered, its jagged edges glinting in the light of a nearby star. “Real smooth plan there, ‘mighty core!’” another chimed in. A particularly small fragment wobbled as it passed, calling out, “Maybe next time, don’t pick a fight with a planet that still has oceans, genius!” The core let out a low, furious rumble, but the comets only cackled louder, their mocking laughter fading into the cosmos as they scattered like rebellious teenagers fleeing the scene of a failed prank.