The lunar module touched down with a gentle jolt, dust billowing then settling into an eternal stillness. Commander Thorne was the first to step onto the silvery surface, his boots crunching softly in the desolate regolith. The Earth hung like a vibrant blue marble in the velvet blackness above, a comforting presence amidst the vast emptiness. Yet, as he planted the flag, a cold shiver traced down his spine, a feeling not of isolation but of being observed. He scanned the horizon, expecting nothing but craters and shadows, but in the deepest crevice of a distant mountain, he thought he saw a flicker, a momentary glint that seemed to reflect not the sun's light, but something else, something ancient and incredibly patient, watching their every move from the moon's silent, unblinking eye.
The glint vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Thorne to question his own senses, attributing it to fatigue or the trick of light in the unfamiliar lunar landscape. But then, a low, resonant hum vibrated through his boots, a sound impossible in the airless vacuum, yet undeniably there. He swiveled his helmet toward the source, a point beyond the jagged peaks, and watched in stunned silence as a sleek, metallic craft, unlike any human design, descended slowly from the black heavens. It touched down with an almost imperceptible grace, kicking up no dust, its surface shimmering faintly under the distant Earthlight, a new, unwelcome star on the ancient, silent moon.