Pitch Black Planet Novels & Stories

January, 3505, Planet R-786 TRAPPIST Planetary system, 40 light years from the sun. Twilight crawled in nice and slow over the white dwarf sun and doused the city in orange. A bleak and uninviting breeze picked up pace and drove most of the men inside. Nocturnal beings ventured out. A rectangular hover craft zoomed past the empty city, people unaware of its existence. It slowed down and dived steep towards the deserted street of Canneti and pulled up just in time. The diver relaxed his grip and glanced back with a boyish grin towards a government labour regulations office, a grin stretched out from his scarred face, like remembering something. Seven years ago the monster within him had raise

Blackstone muttered as he looked down upon the planet beneath him. Floating silently in space with his large hammer on his shoulder, Blackstone may have been smaller than that planet, but his presence was definitely much greater. He looked down with eyes that nostalgically reminisced about the old times. For this was the planet where he too had hidden for the longest time. He had finally returned. He had come to bring his brothers and sisters home. *Boom*

The First City sat upon the peaks of the Ravine like a crown of glass, its towers glowing with a soft, bioluminescent hum. From the balcony of the Sovereign’s sanctum, the world below looked like a patchwork of healing scars. The deep violet bruises of the "Obsidian Pulse" were fading, replaced by the silver-green glow of a planet that had finally found its rhythm.

The Dark Nebula was not a cluster of stars; it was a cosmic graveyard. The Eclipse slipped smoothly out of slipspace, its obsidian hull reflecting the eerie, ambient glow of the Sanguine Court’s capital planet, Tenebris. There was no sun here. The massive world was illuminated entirely by three fractured, blood-red moons and the sprawling, luminescent gothic megacities that covered its surface like a metallic infection. Towering spires of black iron and crimson glass pierced the upper atmosphere, looking like jagged needles trying to stitch the dark sky together.

“This is...” Shocked, Alex looked at the thirteen stars surrounding him. He felt his blood freeze because he had never heard of such a method, nor did he dare to imagine it. There were thirteen planets! They were not thirteen ping-pong balls! He stared carefully at one of them with his eyes shining with divine light. As a result, what did he see? He saw living creatures, many signs of life, and even a community architecture on that planet. In other words, it was a living planet with surviving beings, a large world... If that were the case, there would be thirteen large worlds for thirteen planets.

She closes her eyes as if to shut out the images from penetrating her mind. Placing my hand on the small of her back, I draw the emotions of heartache and sorrow from her core. I reposition myself, my gaze returning to the image, and a low growl escapes my lips. A little red dot appears in the blue planet's center. As the atmospheres are stripped away, everything rapidly turns red-hot, and as everything collapses, the planet burns brighter than a dozen suns. I recoil from the sight, my eyes narrowing as I will myself to continue looking, and suddenly the planet implodes, scattering the dark matter over the Milky Way.

The dust was abrasive, eating through the glass of their goggles and the leather of their suits. "It’s a 'Strategic Smothering'," Lucas said, standing on the deck with Audrey. He looked at the black sky. "The planet isn't hitting us with lightning or quakes. It’s just stopping us from breathing. It’s trying to put the 'Machine' back to sleep." Audrey realized that the "Carbon-Black" was a byproduct of the planet’s own volcanic vents, triggered by the "Back-Surge" they had caused. They were in a feedback loop: the more they fought to survive, the more the planet reacted to their presence.

Now that I can see their colors, it’s easy to paint my own tones to match them. “Gaieta,” the drakaina replies, her silver lips smiling as her words shift to match my color exactly. “The name of this planet is Gaieta. Or it was, once,” she sighs, as she looks out at the vast expense of wasteland. “Before our people fled to find our new home.” “Our people?” I ask, unsure of what she’s saying. “Who are you?”