Chapter 636

The cosmos yawned, a canvas of absolute black sprinkled with the cold glitter of distant suns. Far from the warmth of his home world, Rohan floated in the observation pod, a small metal sphere clinging to the hull of the research vessel Stardust.

He was a young astrophysicist, twenty-six cycles old by Earth measure, his dark eyes usually filled with the spark of scientific discovery. Tonight, they mirrored the starless void outside.

A prickle of unease disturbed the manufactured serenity of the pod. It wasn't a technical malfunction, the Stardust's systems purred smoothly around him.

This was something else, a feeling that settled deep in his bones, a primordial dread whispering on the edge of perception. He adjusted the magnification on the viewport, scanning the inky blackness. Nothing. Just the indifferent expanse of space and the faintest dusting of nebulae paint strokes in the distance.

He consulted the ship's long-range scanners. Still nothing unusual registered. No asteroid fields, no rogue planets, no other vessels. Just the static hum of the universe and the steady beat of his own heart, which had begun to quicken for no discernible reason.

He exhaled slowly, trying to dismiss the sensation as space jitters. Long voyages could do that, play tricks on the mind.

Yet, the feeling intensified. It was as if the void itself was holding its breath, waiting. He checked the gravitational sensors. Again, nothing. Space was placid, undisturbed. He ran a diagnostic on the sensors themselves, just to be certain. All systems nominal. He was alone with his unease, adrift in the silence.

Then, a flicker. So faint he almost dismissed it as a trick of the light, a stray particle reflecting starlight. But it was there, at the very edge of his vision, a disturbance in the perfect blackness.

He zoomed in further, his pulse jumping. It was a line, impossibly long, impossibly straight, cutting across the star field like a drawn blade.

It was moving. Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, the line grew longer, thicker, resolving into a shape. Cylindrical, massive, and utterly alien.

It was unlike anything Rohan had ever seen, anything in the astronomical databases, anything he could have imagined. It was a train. A train in space.

Not a train as in a series of connected cars. This was one single, colossal entity, an elongated behemoth that dwarfed the Stardust and seemed to stretch into infinity. Its surface was not reflective metal, but something dark, absorbent, like obsidian polished to a dull sheen.

There were no visible engines, no lights, no markings, only the sheer, impossible volume of it, silently bearing down on their sector of space.

Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through Rohan's scientific curiosity. This was not a natural phenomenon.

This was something artificial, something deliberately crafted, and its sheer scale suggested a purpose both incomprehensible and terrifying.

He scrambled to the communications panel, his fingers fumbling over the controls. "Captain," he said, his voice tight, "Captain, you need to see this. Something... something is approaching."

Captain Lena Petrova's voice crackled back, laced with sleep. "Rohan? Is there a problem? It's zero four hundred hours."

"Captain, there's a vessel. Massive. Beyond anything we've encountered. It's… it's a train. In space. And it's heading this way."

There was a pause, then the Captain's voice, now sharp and alert. "A train? Rohan, are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm sure, Captain. Come to the observation pod. See for yourself."

Within moments, Captain Petrova, a seasoned veteran of countless deep-space expeditions, stood beside Rohan, her usually calm face paling as she took in the sight.

She swore softly in Russian, a string of words Rohan didn't understand but whose tone spoke volumes. "What in God's name…?"

The space train continued its inexorable advance, growing larger with each passing moment. As it drew nearer, details began to emerge. The dark surface was not smooth, but segmented, like the carapace of some colossal space insect.

Along its flanks, faint lines pulsed with a light that was not light, but something deeper, something that seemed to resonate with the very fabric of space.

"Sensors are going crazy," the Captain reported, her voice strained. "Gravitational readings are spiking, but they're... diffuse. It's like it's bending space around it, but not in a way I've ever seen. And energy readings… off the charts."

Rohan watched, mesmerized and terrified, as the train filled the viewport. It blotted out the stars, a vast, silent wall of darkness hurtling through the void.

He felt a pressure in his chest, a sense of crushing weight, even though the Stardust's inertial dampeners were functioning perfectly. It was the train itself, its sheer mass exerting an influence that defied physics as he knew it.

"Hail it," Captain Petrova ordered, her voice regaining its professional edge. "Open channels, all frequencies."

The communications officer, a young woman named Joshi, worked frantically at her console. "No response, Captain. Trying all frequencies, universal, military, everything. Silence. It's not acknowledging us."

Silence was indeed the train's most terrifying feature. For something of that size, moving at such speed, to be utterly silent was unnatural, disturbing. It was as if it moved outside the normal parameters of existence, governed by laws unknown and unknowable.

The train was almost upon them. It loomed so large now that it filled not just the viewport, but their entire perception of reality. The stars behind it vanished completely, swallowed by its immense shadow. The pressure intensified, the feeling of dread becoming almost unbearable.

"Evasive maneuvers!" Captain Petrova shouted. "All power to thrusters! Get us out of its path!"

The Stardust shuddered as the engines roared to life, straining against inertia. They were a small vessel, fast and agile, but against something of this magnitude, they were like a fly trying to evade a falling mountain.

Rohan gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles white, as the ship lurched violently to the side.

For a moment, he thought they might make it. The train was close, impossibly close, but they were moving, pulling away, creating space between themselves and the looming darkness. Hope flickered, fragile and desperate, in his chest.

Then, the train changed course. Not abruptly, not violently, but with a slow, deliberate correction, as if it had barely noticed their attempt to escape.

It turned towards them, its vast bulk moving with a grace that was both horrifying and hypnotic. It was hunting them.

"It's following us!" Joshi cried, her voice laced with panic. "It's… it's anticipating our movements! How is that possible?"

Captain Petrova's face was grim. "I don't know. But it doesn't matter. Full power! Divert all energy to shields! Prepare for impact!"

The Stardust's shields flared, a shimmering energy field enveloping the ship. But against the space train, they seemed pathetically thin, like tissue paper against a battering ram. Rohan closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable.

He thought of his family, his home, the vibrant chaos of Mumbai, the scent of spices in his mother's kitchen. Images, fleeting and precious, flashed through his mind.

The impact never came. Instead, there was a sensation of… passing through. A shudder, a deep vibration that resonated through every atom of his being, and then… nothing. The crushing pressure lifted. The dread lessened, replaced by a numb, bewildered confusion. He opened his eyes.

They were through it. The space train was behind them, receding into the distance, still moving on its impossible trajectory. The Stardust was intact, shields still holding, systems functioning. They had survived. He let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through him, so potent it was almost painful.

"Report!" Captain Petrova barked, her voice tight with residual tension. "Damage report! Systems check!"

Joshi and the other crew members scrambled to their stations, running diagnostics, checking readouts. Slowly, the reports trickled in.

"Shields at eighty percent, Captain."

"Engines nominal."

"Life support stable."

"Communications… communications are down, Captain. No external signals. Internal comms are working, but nothing from outside."

Captain Petrova frowned. "That's odd. Usually, after an encounter like that…"

She trailed off, her eyes fixed on the main viewscreen, which now showed the space train receding rapidly. As it shrank in size, something else became visible, behind it, where it had just been. Or rather, where something had been.

It was their destination. A planet, a vibrant blue and green world teeming with life, a world they had been sent to study, to explore, to marvel at. Or rather, it had been. Now, it was… gone. Not shattered, not destroyed in a conventional sense.

Simply… missing. In its place was a void, a perfect sphere of nothingness, as if the planet had been erased from existence.

Rohan stared, his mind struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. The space train… it hadn't hit them. It had passed through them. And it hadn't destroyed their ship. It had destroyed… the planet. It was a planet killer.

Not by impact, not by weapons, but by something far more insidious, far more complete. It simply… consumed them.

"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "No, that's not possible. Planets… they can't just…"

Captain Petrova turned to him, her face etched with a horror that mirrored his own. "Rohan," she said, her voice low and grave, "check the planetary scans. Our initial scans, before… before it happened."

He numbly accessed the data, his fingers trembling as he navigated the controls. He pulled up the scans of the planet they had been heading towards. Vibrant ecosystems, bustling cities, signs of a thriving, intelligent civilization. A world full of life, of hope, of potential. A world that was now… gone.

He looked back at the viewscreen, at the receding space train, now a mere speck in the distance. It was moving on, heading towards another star system, another unsuspecting world. It was not malicious, not aggressive, not even aware of their existence.

It was just… hungry. A cosmic vacuum cleaner, consuming worlds as it moved through the galaxy, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake.

"It's a cycle," Captain Petrova murmured, her voice hollow. "A terrible, unending cycle. It consumes, and moves on. And we… we witnessed it. We survived."

But survival felt meaningless now. They had escaped, yes, but they had also seen something that no one should ever see, witnessed a destruction so complete, so absolute, that it shattered the very foundations of their understanding of the universe.

They were adrift, not just in space, but in a new reality, a reality where planets could vanish without a trace, consumed by an unseen, unstoppable force.

Rohan looked at the faces of his crewmates, their expressions a mix of shock, grief, and dawning comprehension. They were alive, but they were also profoundly changed, marked forever by what they had witnessed.

The vastness of space, once a source of wonder and exploration, now felt cold, hostile, and filled with an ancient, unknowable terror.

He thought again of his home, of Earth, billions of souls living their lives, oblivious to the silent, planet-killing train that moved through the cosmos.

Was it heading their way? Would they be next? The thought gnawed at him, a cold, persistent dread that settled in his heart, deeper and more profound than any scientific curiosity he had ever known.

And then he realized the brutal, unique sadness that awaited him. He was from India. A vibrant, populated land. His family, his friends, everyone he knew, lived there.

And as he checked the star charts, tracing the impossible trajectory of the space train, a horrifying realization dawned.

It was headed towards Sol. Towards Earth. Towards India. Towards everyone he loved. And he was powerless to stop it, a lone witness adrift in the void, carrying the knowledge of his world's doom, a secret too terrible to bear, in the chilling silence of space.

He was alive, and he was utterly, devastatingly alone, knowing the end was coming, and he could do nothing but watch.