Writer's Note: I actually had to write this chapter 3 times in 3 different scenarios before I got it the way I wanted.

Ghost Planet - Chapter 2

The Black Thing

Still nothing.

Not even a murmur – just static. Something was wrong, Graveheart felt it in his bones. The night was still young, or at least it felt like it, and they were traveling through the mountains for a while now, on a stone tiled path that was like a river falling between the slopes of the dirt covered hills. For how long he couldn't be sure since the time on his wrist wasn't even displaying numbers anymore but weird symbols instead. They decided to rest for the moment in a diamond shaped clearing between mountain slopes. Graveheart laid comfortably on one of them with an arm behind his head, the other moving over his face every so often to see if the tiny screen still had the same unusual readings. He glanced up a few yards away at the soldier who was sitting almost cross legged on the ground massaging his rock feet. He never really noticed before, with the helmet and all, that he bore a deep scar over his left cheek. The commander had a slightly lesser build, but Graveheart could tell he had been in a messy scrap or two and not the bar kind.

"Damn pickaxe in my rock," Slate moaned, "could things get any worse?"

Graveheart chuckled, "yeah, things usually do." Slate shot him a not very amused look. "You better turn off that light, save some energy for when we need it." Graveheart said as he turned off his own light source.

Slate squinted directly into his flashlight and could tell it lost some of its juice since they arrived on the misty planet. With a click, it shut off. He looked back at his chief who was just a silhouette in the distance. He was looking at the stars that were fairly dull amongst the fog higher up.

Slate leaned back on flat ground. His mind wandered freely from their present situation and it drifted to something... someone who filled him with a warm feeling like he suddenly wasn't on this terrible planet anymore. Amber... small figure, that orange hair with yellow flecks, beautiful. He only knew her for a few days, but it was long enough for a connection to be made. She never liked the wars – quit after her first assignment – never told me why, not even that night when we talked for hours in bed... we yammered ourselves to sleep...

"You lug head. You shouldn't have," she said letting it dangle in the air from her fingertips over their heads.

"Gorgeous ain't it?" he whispered softly, "I'm dispatching for a new assignment tomorrow. Not exactly what I had in mind after my dazzling promotion, but I'll be out there with the leaders of this Alliance and somethin good's gotta come from that," he paused and looked into her stoney, orange eyes, "it will remind you of me when I'm out there fighting my guts out, shootin up the battlefield," he saw her smirk and roll her eyes. Then he touched her hand that was holding the trinket, wrapped then closed her palm gently inside his. His eyes locked onto the reddest of the moons and followed a canyon line streaking across its equator. Amber, you're holding it in those small fingers right now aren't you girl? Something broke through his thoughts and he lifted his chest and head to see his chief standing and alert, something was drawing his attention.

"Hey, what's up?" Slate shouted.

"Shhh, quiet – I heard something, over there," Graveheart whispered and pointed a finger up the tiled pathway they were following, leading up the mountain range. The fog was still as dense as ever but it seemed to be stirring, as if something was moving side-to-side amongst it making swirls of grey smoke.

Slate reached for his flashlight standing at his side but paused and decided it wasn't a good idea to reveal their position just yet. As if my shouting didn't do that already. He quietly got to his feet and edged his way beside Graveheart keeping his head fixed on the misty path ahead. They listened attentively for movement, footsteps on the tiled stone, words from an alien tongue or the squeal from a discharged weapon. Slate reached back for his pistol that lay fastened horizontally above his rear and took the handle but not drawing out the weapon. Then there came a familiar noise. It was the same sound they heard earlier at the base of the mountains. The hiss was very faint but it was enough to make Slate hold his breath. Every part of him froze, his eyes tunnel visioned on a fixed point in the fog.

Graveheart looked over at the commander and could see the anxiety on his face. If this was an alien, hopefully intelligent, it probably was immune to their scanners which would explain the absent life signs. Graveheart knew that first contact with the people of a new world was crucial and lay a gentle gloved hand on Slate's arm that was holding the handle of his gun. The commander snapped his head to look at Graveheart obviously startled. He understood the gesture and released his firm grip on the weapon. They both looked back into the fog but this time something was there. A large, dark figure emerged as it seemingly glided across the ground without a sound. It was round, four times the size of either soldier with large arms or maybe tentacles that seemed to sprout from its head in a fashion that resembled an overturned dead spider. It's mouth was just barely visible under the moonlight – it was open with it's jaw disturbingly stretched down to the ground – it was a massive gaping hole that seemed to make it impossible for the creature to ever close it again. Graveheart's own mouth was gaping as he studied the creature. It didn't appear to have eyes or maybe it did but underneath the sags of skin that were on either side of its bodiless head. The creature strangely didn't seem aware of the presence of either humanoid. Its sluggish movement was steady as it propelled forward by bobbing itself back and forth along a straight path towards them, softly hissing in rhythmn to its own movement.

Slate was cautiously side stepping out of the monster's path his eyes strained on the beast's tentacles which were flowing devilishly in the air. Whatever horrific intentions this alien had, it sure as heck wasn't going to be open to conversation he thought. The air around him was suddenly tainted with a rank odour smelling of decomposing plants and rotting wood. It filled his senses and seeped into his eyes, he recoiled and shut them while continuing to side step further.

There was some shadowed object on the ground he was about to walk into and Graveheart realized it was Slate's large flashlight standing high on its end. "Slate!" he sputtered catching his attention, "look out – beside you!" But it was too late. Slate's left bare foot knocked the flashlight over and it hit the stone ground with a clamorous thud and to both of their misfortunes, it turned on shooting a beam of light that erupted in the darkness. It rolled in an arc and its light was now shining directly onto the beast's head which abruptly turned to the commotion and started shaking wildly, its tentacles no longer in rhythmic flow but now flicking violently in the air. The monster exerted a high pitched hissing that penetrated the air and hit Graveheart's ears like flying pins. He fell to his knees and tension swelled his face. He could see the giant beast rapidly closing in on Slate who had his back to the ground, desperately shuffling backwards on his elbows.

"TURN IT OFF!" Graveheart shouted. He could barely hear himself yell through the deafening sound that was shaking the very bones of his body.

Slate quickly jumped onto the flashlight and rolled in a panic, dodging the black monster's charge. He clicked it off and looked back up at the thing that nearly swallowed him whole. The creature was spinning itself voraciously side to side still hissing loudly. It appeared frustrated, like it could no longer detect whatever it was that disturbed its peace. Both men could only cower in their fallen positions, frozen, their faces horror stricken as they watched the savage beast throw a tantrum.

It stopped abruptly, the shrieking. The creature's flailing limbs began to flicker slower – its overall demeanour was calming as if sedated by the returning darkness. It turned around to the sloping path and started resuming its rhythmic passage, disappearing into the fog and down the mountain pass. The quiet hissing soon faded and Graveheart felt it was safe enough to say something with the creature out of range.

"What in the maker was that?" he said breathing heavily.

"The local residence?" Slate croaked sarcastically.

"The creature seemed to be," Graveheart looked up at Slate, "drawn to light energy," he revealed an extremely worried face, which his comrade could not see.

"Yeah no kidding," the commander started hotly, "I figured that one out when it nearly had me for a light snack."

"Pyrus..." Graveheart began. Slate looked at him and understood why his voice held so much concern.

Graveheart looked down at the com screen on his arm. It was dead black. "If Pyrus and Tekla were attacked by that same creature, their communications would have been severed aswell."

"That explains the static," Slate interjected.

Graveheart hoped their assumptions were wrong, but the gloomy disposition of the planet was weighing down on his optimism. It was hard to believe a mission, which at first seemed like a routine sweep, could go so wrong. He looked up into the sky and scanned the five moons, which seemed to be drifting farther apart from one another.

Pyrus... Tekla... I've never given up on you and I'm not about to start.

Just keep that inner flame lit kid, we'll find you.