The clock on Guest's nightstand read 11:47 PM. His room was lit only by the pale blue glow of his TV screen, eyes locked on the launch sequence counting down on his monitor.

T-minus ten... nine... eight...

He leaned forward on his bed, elbows on his knees. After three hours of tweaking fuel tanks and repositioning fins, his rocket — the Valor III — was finally ready. Jebediah Kerman sat strapped into the command pod at the top, that dopey grin plastered on his little green face like he had absolutely no idea he was about to be launched into the stratosphere by a fourteen-year-old in his pajamas.

Three... two... one...

The engines ignited. The rocket screamed off the launchpad in a column of fire and smoke, arcing over the shimmering blue of the Kerbal sea. Then the fuel ran out forty kilometers short of orbit.

His first thought when he woke up was that his bed felt wrong. Too firm. Too flat. It smelled like grass and something metallic, like the air before a thunderstorm.

Guest opened his eyes.

The sky was the wrong shade of blue — deeper, almost turquoise, with two small moons hanging in the daylight like forgotten ornaments. He sat up. He was lying in a field of dark green grass. Rolling hills stretched around him, and in the distance the white lattice towers of a rocket assembly building rose above the horizon.

The Kerbal Space Center.

Guest got to his feet, still in his pajamas — the gray ones with the little rocket ships on them. He pressed a hand to his face. Still his face. Still his hands. Still him, standing in a world that had no business existing.

That's when he heard voices — small, high-pitched, somewhere around his knees. He looked down.

Four little figures stood in the grass below him. Enormous black eyes. Wide rectangular from bottom up heads. Each one barely reaching his waist. Tiny orange jumpsuits. Every single one of them looked absolutely terrified.

The one near the back grabbed the sleeve of the one beside him.

Bill. What in the name of Kerbin is THAT?

Bill took three slow steps backward.

I don't know, Bob. And I really don't want to know.

The one in front — name tag reading JEB — hadn't moved. He craned his head all the way back, scanning Guest from sneaker to bedhead.

It's... tall.

TALL?! Jeb it appeared out of NOWHERE! We are absolutely DOOMED!

The fourth Kerbal — quieter, glasses slightly crooked — clutched a tiny clipboard to his chest like a shield.

We don't know what it is yet. It could be a new species. A visitor. A—

A MONSTER, Bob snapped.

We are not using the word monster, Bob.

Then what ARE we using?!

Silence. All four Kerbals froze. Jeb's eyes somehow went even wider. Bill made a sound like a deflating balloon. Bob grabbed the clipboard Kerbal's arm so hard the clipboard went spinning into the grass.

Then Bob raised a shaking finger and screamed —

IT SPEAKS!!!