Alban scanned the horizon, his eyes squinting against the harsh red light of the system's dying star. The wind whipped at his face, the sting of its alien sands a reminder that he was far from home. His colleague, Cazaril, stood nearby, likewise searching the terrain for the origin of the mysterious signal they had been tracking for days.
This barren rock orbiting the edge of space was the last place either man expected to find intelligent life, let alone a signal that echoed faintly through the cosmos. Yet here they were, standing upon a forsaken world. The signal itself was gritty, not unlike the haggard wind that beat relentlessly upon the land.
"You ever think," Alban muttered, not looking away from the horizon, "that maybe we're just chasing shadows?"
"Shadows?" Cazaril replied, his voice low and dark. "No, there's something here. Perhaps not what we were expecting, but still. something."
"Whatever's here, it's eluding us," Alban said. He rubbed at the rough stubble on his chin, leaving red dust in its place. "I don't like being led by the nose like this."
Cazaril folded his arms, the lines of his face etched in a grim determination. He seemed to contemplate something, then turned to Alban, his age-creased face mirroring the landscape's sense of resignation.
"Nor do I, Alban. But perhaps the shadows we chase are our own." He pointed back towards the vicinity of the signal's origin. "Tonight, we will find the truth in this place, whatever it may be."