Commander Elias Vance floated outside the research vessel Astra-9, tethered by a single silver line that stretched back to the airlock.
Below him: a dead planet.
Above him: infinite black.
The solar array on the ship’s left wing had jammed after a micrometeor strike. Without it, power levels would drop dangerously within hours.
“Almost done,” Elias said calmly over comms, tightening the final panel brace.
Inside the observation deck, three crew members monitored his suit cam feed.
“Copy that, Elias,” said Dr. Mira Chen. “You’re clear on our end.”
The stars were unusually bright tonight. Too bright.
Elias adjusted the panel and turned—
Something moved in the darkness.
Not debris.
Not a shadow.
A shape.
Long. Fluid. Massive.
Back inside the ship, the monitors flickered slightly with static.
“Did you see that?” one of the engineers whispered.
Elias squinted into space.
“Probably nothing,” he muttered.
Then it came.
From beneath the ship’s hull, something unfolded itself from the darkness — enormous and silent.
It looked like a colossal octopus, but wrong. Its body shimmered like oil in vacuum. Its tentacles stretched impossibly long, each lined with faint bioluminescent patterns pulsing blue and violet. Its central mass had no visible eyes — only shifting membranes that reflected starlight.
It moved without propulsion.
Without sound.
Without logic.
“Elias— move!” Mira shouted.
Too late.
One massive tentacle wrapped around his leg.
His suit cam spun violently. Stars blurred.
“Something’s got me!” Elias yelled, grabbing the tether.
Another tentacle wrapped around his torso.
Inside the ship, alarms triggered.
The alien creature pulled him away from the hull effortlessly, as if gravity meant nothing to it.
Elias tried to fire his thrusters — they flared white against the void, useless.
The creature rotated slowly, studying him.
A third tentacle brushed across his helmet visor.
On the inside of the glass, faint blue light began to spread.
Mira’s voice cracked through the comms:
“Cut the tether! Cut it!”
Elias looked back at the ship.
The tether was taut — if it snapped violently, it could destabilize the vessel.
He hesitated.
The alien tightened its grip.
Suddenly, the creature’s bioluminescent patterns pulsed faster — reacting to something.
The ship’s defense grid activated automatically.
A surge of electromagnetic energy rippled outward from the hull.
The alien jerked back.
Its body shimmered violently, distorting like liquid glass.
Elias broke free, spinning through open space.
The creature recoiled, folding into itself.
Then—
It dissolved into darkness.
Gone.
Only the stars remained.
Breathing hard, Elias steadied himself and engaged thrusters toward the ship.
Inside, the crew stared at empty space on the monitors.
No debris.
No trace.
Only static fading away.
As the airlock sealed behind him, Mira whispered:
“It wasn’t hunting.”
Elias removed his helmet slowly.
“It was studying.”
Outside the viewport, the stars shimmered faintly.
As if something enormous had blinked
