The Guardian

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The object appeared without warning.
No transponder signal. No recognizable silhouette. It simply drifted there — ancient, damaged, as if it had long forgotten what it was built for.

The crew transferred over.
They had no real choice.

The atmosphere inside was hostile. Thick, metallic haze filled the corridors. Red emergency lights flickered weakly, giving the impression that the systems had been failing for a very long time. From deep within the structure came the occasional dull sound — not machinery. More like… breathing.

The closer they came to the command deck, the quieter it became.
No alarms. No readouts. Only darkness.

Then something moved.

A humanoid shape slowly rose from the shadows. No face. No features. Just a matte black silhouette — and two glowing red points where human eyes should have been.

The Guardian.

It had been waiting.
That was all it ever did.

The crew understood too late.

Much later, the navigation system of a passing vessel registered two objects drifting through space.
Both without destination.

Both ancient.

Both silent.

No one ever left the object again.

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