As he crested the ridge, the horizon shimmered. Below them lay the Ghost of Alara , a freighter that had vanished during the Great Expansion. It was emerging from the sand like a skeletal beast waking from sleep. The metal hull glowed a faint, ghostly blue, reacting to the planet's atmospheric charge. "There," Kaelen whispered.
"Drop the anchors!" Kaelen yelled, slamming a grounding rod into the sand to divert the charge. "We aren't leaving without the Glass." HDPlanet Dune
Kaelen adjusted his rebreather, the copper-tinted sky of the planet pressing down like a physical weight. On the maps of the United Colonies, this world was technically "HD-8842b," but to the scavengers and outcasts who lived here, it was simply Dune. It wasn’t like the deserts of Old Earth. Here, the sand was composed of pulverized silicon and rare-earth magnets, creating shifting dunes that sang with a low, metallic hum whenever the wind reached forty knots. As he crested the ridge, the horizon shimmered
The sand erupted twenty yards ahead. Not a creature of flesh, but a localized vortex of magnetic force, dragging shards of metal and stone into a towering, serpentine shape. It was the planet’s immune system, a sentient storm born of the very dust they walked on. The metal hull glowed a faint, ghostly blue,
"Static-Wyrm," Mira hissed, her hand flying to her flare gun.