Congratulations on your 7 year anniversary,<NAME>! That is quite an accomplishment. As you may well be aware, astronomers have discovered a ninth planet that they have helpfully called Planet Nine, because apparently creativity is not a thing among that crowd. Already they are celebrating the find. A celebration that they will soon rue as premature.
It is, in fact, not a planet but a space station. A massive weapon patrolling the galaxy, its inner core a gigantic hive of insectoid horrors driven by a ruthless hive mind to consume all life in the galaxy. Slowly, inexorably, it makes its way toward us, using the gravity of our own sun to help pull it ever closer. It will be a creeping doom. A crawling death. It may take dozens of years, but they will be upon us. Once in stable orbit around our earth, hive ships will likely break off from the bulk of planet nine, careening on to our planet with a dull thud, as millions of warrior bugs spill forth from small openings along the exterior. Using what I can only assume are vise like pincers, they will grapple us in place, as a needle like appendage menacingly extends from their chitinous abdomen. At this point they will presumably sting us, rendering us immobile and helpless against what comes next.
From here we project their vile hive will open in a blast of rancid, stagnant air, the bones of those species they have enslaved to serve as food spilling out the pulsing, glowing walkway. Leaving the relics of those they have consumed strewn recklessly about, we can safely guess their terrible queen will exit the craft, resplendent in ghastly glory, her twitching antennae seeking out those subdued by her loyal children. She will glide across the fields of carnage on graceful, spindle like legs, her mandibles clacking menacingly, until she finds a helpless foe. From here her ovipositor will slowly descend downward, dumping a clutch of eggs onto the prone host, who can only watch in mute horror as the spiny forms visible through the translucent egg sacks begin to twitch and squirm.
It is safe to say we will be completely and utterly destroyed. Powerless to prevent our demise. Left to wander the ruin of our world infested with larvae that will eventually metamorphose into a new generation of space insects, turning our planet into a new ship for these aggressors. Once they reach critical biological mass, the creatures will push our once proud earth, now a teeming hive planet, out into the galaxy in search of worlds to conquer. We cannot escape this fate. The best we may hope for is that we are the one chosen as the vessel for the new queen, that we are blessed to carry and protect her royal personage in our decaying, contaminated flesh.