Sci Fi Saturday: A Better Warning Would Have Helped

The message we'd received felt like a dare:
The godlike things that left it for us had
Been cryptic. They bade "try no landings there"
Without an explanation. Things got bad
Once Secretary Dickinson, sworn in
And raring thus to make his special mark
On history, declared that what had been
A someday goal, as we explored the dark,
Was now our greatest, first priority.
And so upon Europa we did land,
And so released such horrors as would be
Near indescribable. No ice nor sand,
But toxic, trans-dimensional, foul trash
Burst out into our system, once we'd crashed.