'Shroud', by Adrian Tchaikovsky

A commercial expedition to a distant star system discovers a pitch-black moon alive with radio activity. Its high-gravity, high-pressure, zero-oxygen environment is deadly to human life, but ripe for exploitation. They named it Shroud.

Under no circumstances can a human survive Shroud’s inhospitable surface – but a catastrophic accident forces Juna Ceelander and Mai Ste Etienne to make an emergency landing in a barely adequate escape vehicle. Alone, and fighting for survival, the two women embark on a gruelling journey across land, sea and air in search of salvation.

But as they travel, Juna and Mai begin to understand Shroud’s unnerving alien species. It also begins to understand them. If they escape Shroud, they’ll somehow have to explain the impossible and translate the incredible. That is, if they make it back at all . . .

If there's one thing Adrian Tchaikovsky does well (ok, he does very far more than one thing, but go with me), it's alienness. Not just alien life, but worlds, cultures, habitats... every aspect of a Completely Other Thing. Which comprehends just as well as we do, without any ability to communicate to the odd little two-legs who come crashing into their backyard.

The first portion of the book is the human setup. A planet that is entirely dark but on which has been found life. A human society that’s become entirely focused on business, productivity and the most awful aspects of middle-management that you’ve ever experienced. A frustrated protagonist whose duty seems to be coordinating a spaceship crew that’s essentially an office of staff that don’t get on with each other.

It’s wryly humorous with a strong undercurrent of mystery. The only video of the planet that manages to reach the ship reminded me of ‘found-footage horror’ in how vague it is, with just enough going on to inform the reader that this place is Not Pleasant At All.

Then suddenly our protagonist finds herself on the surface. Possibly. She’s not an astronaut at all, not even a scientist. There’s no way to communicate past the atmosphere, and no indicator of any help coming. Her surviving colleagues still don’t get on. And there’s alien life coming by to see what all the noise is about.

To my surprise and pleasure, the book then shifts to the ‘alien’ perspective - and it’s amazing! No spoilers, but this is a human writer depicting a very non-human life-form about as perfectly as can be. They don’t see like we do, communicate or understand, but they’re far from stupid. In fact, they seem to be far smarter than the human society that’s inadvertently made first contact, and it’s fascinating to imagine how such interaction would go.

Because of course, the planet is not at all friendly to humans, and with limited oxygen and food, what are those two-leggers to do? And whose side will the reader end up on?

While ‘Alien Clay’ hasn’t quite been ousted from my Favourites podium just yet (effusive review here), ‘Shroud’ is a close second. The skill at which Tchaikovsky draws us in with relatable characters - both human and alien - is incredible, and I genuinely did not know what was going to happen from one moment to the next. Everything makes sense in context, and the ‘science’ isn’t too dense that I ever felt lost.

I have never read anything like this, and the sheer atmosphere of it will stay with me for a long time. Relevant twenty-first-century science-fiction at its absolute best.