POV: Zoranians

Planet Zorat Prime – High Command War Council, Earth Date September 23, 2433

The council chamber on Zorat Prime was silent save for the rhythmic ticking of the central chrono-sphere, its bronze orbs gliding along invisible currents of air. The room, usually a cacophony of roaring debate, snarls, and huffs, now felt suffocating. Pride, Zoranian pride, had no voice here. Not today.

Ma’aak’tal stood in the center of the chamber, his scaled hands clasped behind his back. His uniform, once immaculate, bore the scorch marks of battle. A visual testament to the failure that hung heavy in the room.

“This council convenes to address the catastrophic loss – your catastrophic loss – at Iridev,” announce Overlord Ka’trio’tsk, his voice low and deliberate. The Overlord’s spines were flat against his back, his golden scales dulled. A stark contrast to the vibrant figure he once was.

“The loss was not catastrophic,” Ma’aak’tal interjected, his voice steady despite the weight of his disgrace. “We were-“

“SILENCE!” Ka’trio’tsk bellowed, his clawed hand slamming into the armrest of his opulent throne. “Do not insult our intelligence by tempering the truth. We lost everything, Ma’aak’tal. Nearly the entire fleet, gone. Reduced to rubble and debris!”

The gathered councilors hissed and muttered, their tails twitching in agitation.

“Debris and shame,” one of them growled, his yellow eyes narrowed.

Ma’aak’tal clenched his fists. “We faced weapons we did not understand! Tactics that defied-“

“Tactics you failed to anticipate!” another councilor snapped. “You assured us of victory! You assured us humanity was no more than a fledgling species! A primitive, you called them. Yet here we are, humbled and humiliated by those very primitives.”

The word hung in the air like poison, saturating the already humid chambers. A bead of sweat trickled down Ma’aak’tal’s scaled brow, though he dared not wipe it away. Around him, councilors shifted restlessly, their eyes gleaming with anger or disdain.

“The humans’ technological capabilities were unheard of!” Ma’aak’tal snarled, his voice rising defensively. His spines quivered, and for a fleeting moment, his gaze faltered before returning to the council. “Strategy defying all known war doctrines! They hold technological prowess we do not understand!”

The silence that followed Ma’aak’tal’s outburst was suffocating. He glanced around the chamber, his claws digging into his palms as the councilors exchanged quiet, venomous murmurs.

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Ka’trio’tsk rose slowly, his towering frame casting a shadow over the chamber. “And whose failure was it to anticipate this?” he asked, his voice dripping with cold accusation.

Ma’aak’tal bared his teeth. “We had no intelligence to suggest-“

“We had no intelligence because you deemed it unnecessary!” Ka’trio’tsk roared, his spines flaring. “Your arrogance led us into this disaster. You underestimated them, Ma’aak’tal. And now, the Zoranian fleet lies in ruin!”

The chamber erupted into angry hisses and snarls, councilors voicing their agreement. Ma’aak’tal’s spines flattened against his back as he struggled to keep his composure.

“Enough,” growled a voice a from the shadows, a councilor from the far side of the room. The hissing subsided as all eyes turned toward the speaker. “What matters now is our survival.”

The councilor’s scarles were dark, nearly black, and his voice was calm but unyielding. “We must decide whether to retaliate… or to negotiate.”

The word hung in the air, heavier than any insult.

Ma’aak’tal’s lips curled in disgust. “Negotiate? With those… primitives? After they annihilated our fleet?!”

“They are primitives no longer,” the dark-scaled councilor replied. “They have proven that.”

Overlord Ka’trio’tsk’s spines quivered as he fixed his gaze on the dark-scaled councilor, his golden eyes blazing. “Negotiate? You suggest surrender cloaked in diplomacy! A coward’s choice!”

The dark-scaled councilor met his fury without flinching. “A pragmatic choice,” he countered. “One that ensures the survival of our species.”

“Survival?” another councilor sneered, his emerald scales catching the dim light. “What survival is there in bowing to those who spilled Zoranian blood? The galaxy will see us as weak, our strength reduced to hollow boasts!”

Ma’aak’tal nodded sharply, finding an opportunity to reclaim the room. “They must pay for what they’ve done.” His voice carried a savage edge, his tail thrashing against the stone floor. “The fleet at Iridev was a warning, a provocation. If we do not respond in kind, we will embolden them to strike deeper into Zoranian space.”

A ripple of agreement swept through the chamber. Snarls and growls punctuated the murmurs, swelling like a tide.

The dark-scaled councilor, not outnumbered, let out a slow breath. “And when they respond to your retaliation, what then? Another fleet? Another planet razed to ash? How many lives will you sacrifice to protect your pride, Overlord?”

Ka’trio’tsk stood from his throne, stepping forward, his massive frame towering over the room. “We are Zoranians!” he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber. “We do not cower in the shadow of defeat! We strike, we endure, and we prevail victorious!”

His words ignited a storm of approval. Councilors hissed and slammed their tails against the floor in unison, a deafening display of support.

Ka’trio’tsk raised a clawed hand, and the chamber fell silent. He turned his gaze to Ma’aak’tal, the weight of command settling over him. “Admiral, your failure was great, but your resolve will decide if your name is remembered in disgrace… or redemption.”

Ma’aak’tal straightened, his spines stiffening along his back, tail growing still. “Name the target, Overlord, and I will see it reduced to glass.”

Ka’trio’tsk bared his teeth in a predatory grin. “Not glassed, Ma’aak’tal. Claimed. Humanity must learn that their victories cost them dearly.” He gestured toward the holomap at the center of the chamber. “Strike an outlier world, one vital to their supply chains. Take what remains of our fleet and remind them why the galaxy once feared us.”

The dark-scaled councilor shook his head, but his voice was lost beneath the roar of approval that swept through the chamber. Zoranian pride had spoken. The course was set.

Ka’trio’tsk’s golden eyes gleamed as he delivered his final command. “Let the humans feel the weight of Zoranian vengeance.”