The *Aurora* cut through the void like a blade, its hull gleaming under the twin suns of Epsilon Eridani. Captain Mara Voss stood at the observation deck, her gloved fingers pressing against the reinforced glass. Below, the planet Dain-7 loomed—a swirling mass of violet storms and jagged obsidian peaks. The crew had called it a graveyard, a place where every mission ended in silence. But Mara had seen the data. The signal was real. It pulsed from the planet’s core, a rhythm that didn’t belong to any known natural phenomenon.
“We’re approaching the designated coordinates,” said Jax, the ship’s engineer, his voice crackling through the comms. His image flickered on the console beside her, a pixelated ghost in the dim light. “Atmospheric readings are stable. No signs of life, but… something’s off. The air’s too still.”
Mara turned, her boots scraping against the metal floor. “We’ve come too far to turn back. Prepare the landing pods.” She didn’t wait for a response. The *Aurora* had been her lifeline for seven years, a vessel built to chase the unknown. But this mission felt different. The signal wasn’t just a discovery—it was a summons.
The landing was abrupt. The pod shuddered as it breached the atmosphere, turbulence tossing it like a leaf. Mara gripped the armrests, her knuckles white. When the dust settled, she stepped onto the surface, the air thick with the scent of ozone and something else—something metallic, like rusted steel. The landscape stretched in all directions: a desert of black stone, cracked and glistening under the twin suns. No vegetation. No movement. Just silence.
“This place is a tomb,” muttered Tessa, the team’s geologist, as she knelt to collect a sample. Her gloves hissed as they scraped against the rock. “No organic matter. No traces of water. But the signal… it’s stronger here.” She looked up, her eyes wide. “It’s coming from below.”
Mara nodded, her pulse steady. They descended into the planet’s crust, a tunnel carved by ancient hands. The walls shimmered with veins of iridescent ore, casting an eerie glow. Every step echoed, the sound swallowed by the darkness. Then, they found it—a massive structure, half-buried in the earth. Its surface was smooth, unmarked by time, and at its center pulsed a single light, rhythmic and alive.
“It’s not a structure,” Tessa whispered. “It’s a… machine.”
The light intensified, and the ground trembled. Mara barely had time to react before the air filled with a low hum, resonating in her bones. The team froze as the machine responded to their presence, its surface rippling like liquid. Then, a voice—not spoken, but felt—echoed in their minds: *You have come at last.*
“What the hell was that?” Jax’s voice was sharp, trembling.
“It’s communicating,” Tessa said, her voice barely above a breath. “But how?”
Mara stepped forward, her hand outstretched. The light pulsed again, and suddenly, images flooded her mind—visions of a civilization that had once thrived here, of a war that had consumed them, of a final act of desperation that had buried their knowledge beneath the planet’s surface. She staggered back, gasping.
“We’re not the first,” she said, her voice hoarse. “And we might not be the last.”
The machine’s light dimmed, then flared again, brighter this time. The ground shook, and the tunnel began to collapse. “We need to go!” Jax shouted, dragging Tessa away. Mara hesitated, her mind still reeling from the visions. Then she ran, the weight of the planet’s secrets pressing against her chest.
Back on the *Aurora*, the crew barely had time to breathe before the ship’s systems flickered. The signal had followed them. It pulsed in the engines, in the comms, in their very thoughts. Mara stared at the controls, her reflection distorted by the glow of the screens. The machine had chosen them. But why? And what would it demand in return?
The *Aurora* drifted into the void once more, but the silence was different now. It wasn’t empty—it was waiting. And somewhere beneath the surface of Dain-7, the machine continued to pulse, its rhythm a heartbeat that would never fade.
