POV: Shane Valdez, 19
New Handover, City of Meridian – Earth Date March 25, 2434
The screen flickered with static before the image resolved into the grim face of a news anchor. Her voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed the exhaustion behind her carefully chosen words.
“Casualty reports continue to rise across New Handover. Over 223,000 dead or injured in yesterday’s Zoranian bombardment of Meridian. Rescue efforts are ongoing, but Zoranian ground forces have made landfall, complicating relief operations.”
Shane Valdez leaned forward, his hands clenched into fists. The faint hum of the shield generator he was working on buzzed in the background, a steady counterpoint to the chaos on the screen.
“Eyewitnesses report widespread destruction,” the anchor continued, her voice tight. “Entire districts leveled. Thousands are feared trapped beneath the rubble, with little hope of evacuation as Zoranian troops tighten their grip on the city.”
Shane’s gaze shifted to the window. The skyline of Meridian, once gleaming with solar towers and shimmering spires, was choked with smoke. Fires burned in the distance, their acrid smell seeping through the cracks of the safehouse.
He turned back to his workbench, the holographic interface casting faint blue light across his face. The shield generator wasn’t much. An improvised device cobbled together from scraps of lab equipment, but it might buy someone a few precious seconds.
His hands moved quickly, adjusting the energy stabilizers as he muttered to himself. “Come on, come on… just hold together.”
The generator whirred softly, then emitted a sharp hum. A faint, translucent barrier flickered to life around the device. Shane exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging in relief.
“Shane,” a voice called softly.
He turned to see a woman standing in the doorway, her face streaked with soot. “We’ve got more people coming in. Families. Some of them are injured. Can you-”
“Yeah,” Shane said, cutting her off. He grabbed the generator and slung it over his shoulder. “I’m coming.”
POV: Zoranians
The Zoranian patrol moved cautiously through the rubble-strewn streets, their weapons drawn. Commander Va’tok gestured for his troops to fan out, his golden eyes scanning the ruins for any sign of resistance.
“This is what they call a weapons hub?” one soldier muttered, kicking a charred piece of debris. “I see no defenses, no weapons caches… just rubble and corpses.”
“Keep your focus,” Va’tok growled. “The humans are cunning. Their weapons could be hidden anywhere.”
But even as he spoke, doubt gnawed at him. The city didn’t look like a military target. The buildings they passed bore no signs of fortifications, only laboratories and homes.
One of the younger soldiers hesitated, his spines flattening. “Commander… are we sure this is the right target? These people… they don’t look like fighters.”
Va’tok’s gaze darkened. “You question our orders?”
The soldier flinched but didn’t look away. “No, Commander. I only… it doesn’t feel right.”
The rubble crunched beneath Va’tok’s heavy boots as the patrol advanced, their weapons scanning the ruins of Meridian’s once-glittering skyline. The streets were eerily silent, save for the distant crackle of flames and the low groans of unstable structures.
It wasn’t the first city the Zoranians had taken during this war, but something about this one felt different.
“Commander,” one of the soldiers, Ka’riv, called softly. She knelt by a shattered wall, her scaled hands brushing over a pile of debris.
Va’tok approached, his tail swaying in agitation. “What is it?”
Ka’riv held up a small object, a child’s toy, a crude model of a spaceship. It was chipped and blackened by soot but unmistakably a relic of a peaceful life. “I’ve seen no signs of defenses here,” she said quietly. “No weapons, no soldiers. Just… this.”
Va’tok’s spines flared, a gesture more out of irritation than conviction. “The humans are deceptive. They’ve hidden their weapons underground or dispersed them to other cities. Don’t let their tricks sway your focus.”
Ka’riv hesitated, her golden eyes meeting his. “Tricks don’t explain why there are no shield generators. No defenses of any kind. If this was a weapons hub, why didn’t they protect it?”
Va’tok’s jaw tightened, and he turned away sharply, scanning the horizon. He didn’t have an answer. Not one he liked.
Nearby, another soldier, younger and more hesitant than the others, lingered by a collapsed building. His spines were lowered, his tail twitching nervously. “Commander,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Va’tok growled in irritation and strode over. “What now, Dren’val?”
The younger soldier gestured toward a half-buried sign, its surface cracked but legible. The text was in multiple galactic languages, including Zoranian:
“New Handover Institute of Collaborative Sciences: Advancing Peace, Together.”
Dren’val’s voice wavered. “This… this doesn’t look like a weapons facility. It’s a school. A research lab.”
Va’tok stared at the sign, his claws flexing involuntarily. The longer he looked at it, the more the words seemed to weigh on him. He’d been briefed extensively about New Handover before the invasion. A hub of human innovation, they’d called it. A planet hiding its true purpose under the guise of peace.
But standing here, among the wreckage of civilian lives and shattered dreams, he felt the briefing unraveling in his mind.
“It’s human propaganda,” Va’tok snapped, his tone harder than he intended. “A front to conceal their operations. Do not let their deceit cloud your judgment.”
Dren’val hesitated, his gaze drifting to a nearby family huddled in the shadow of a collapsed building. A mother and two children, their faces streaked with ash. Their wide eyes stared back at him, filled with equal parts fear and exhaustion.
“Commander,” Ka’riv said again, her voice softer now. “What if they were wrong? What if this planet isn’t what we were told?”
Va’tok rounded on her, his spines flaring. “Enough!” he barked. “You will not question your orders. Do you think the humans would hesitate to destroy one of our colonies if the roles were reversed?”
Ka’riv lowered her head but didn’t reply.
The patrol continued, but the unease lingered, unspoken but palpable. As they moved deeper into the ruins, they encountered more signs of civilian life. A makeshift shelter with wounded survivors, a lab still flickering with power, its holograms displaying medical research…
Dren’val stopped again, his weapon lowering slightly. “They’re not fighters,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Va’tok heard him and turned sharply. “What did you say?”
“These people… they’re not fighters,” Dren’val repeated, his voice trembling. “They’re scientists. Teachers. Families. Commander, they don’t even have weapons to defend themselves.”
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Va’tok’s claws twitched at his sides. He wanted to snap at the young soldier, to remind him of the casualties humanity had inflicted on their kind, of the losses that had fueled this war. But the words caught in his throat.
Because Dren’val was right.
He could see it in the faces of the civilians they passed, in the shattered remnants of lives that had nothing to do with war. These weren’t soldiers hiding behind a façade of peace. They were… innocents.
“Commander,” Ka’riv said cautiously, her voice breaking the silence. “If we’re wrong about this, if we’ve been lied to…”
Va’tok’s spines lowered slightly, his gaze distant. For the first time, he felt the weight of his orders pressing down on him, heavier than the rifle in his hands.
“Keep moving,” he growled, though his voice lacked conviction.
POV: Shane Valdez
Shane crouched behind the collapsed remains of a solar array, the shield generator strapped to his back humming softly. The jagged edges of metal and broken glass framed his view of the street beyond, where a Zoranian patrol moved in eerie silence.
He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, each beat too loud, too quick. The patrol wasn’t far… thirty, maybe forty meters at most. Close enough that he could hear their boots crunching on the debris. Close enough to see their weapons gleaming in the pale light filtering through the smoke-filled sky.
He adjusted the strap on his shoulder, shifting the weight of the generator. It wasn’t a perfect device - not yet - but it was all he had. If the patrol spotted him, it might give him just enough time to run. Maybe.
A faint cry broke the silence, and Shane froze. He tilted his head, his breath catching as he strained to hear over the muffled rumble of the fires still raging in the distance.
The cry came again, soft but insistent. A child.
Shane’s stomach twisted. He scanned the rubble-strewn street and saw them… a mother and two children huddled against a half-collapsed wall. Their faces were pale, streaked with soot, their eyes wide with terror as they clung to each other.
The patrol was moving closer.
“Damn it,” Shane whispered under his breath. He glanced at the generator, then back at the family. His mind raced, weighing his options. If he activated the shield, it might draw the patrol’s attention. If he didn’t…
He didn’t finish the thought.
Shane adjusted the generator again and crept forward, keeping low to the ground. The broken glass bit into his palms, but he ignored it, his focus fixed on the family ahead.
“Stay quiet,” he mouthed as he reached them, his voice barely a whisper.
The mother nodded, clutching her children tighter. One of them, a boy no older than six, stared up at Shane with tear-streaked cheeks and trembling lips. Shane felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest.
He gestured for them to follow, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. “This way,” he murmured, motioning toward a gap in the rubble that led to the alley behind the solar array.
The mother hesitated, her gaze flickering toward the patrol. Shane could see the fear in her eyes, the uncertainty. He reached out and placed a hand on her arm, his grip firm but gentle.
“Trust me,” he said.
She nodded again, and they began to move, slipping through the shadows as quietly as they could. The generator’s hum grew louder in Shane’s ears, and he winced, hoping the patrol wouldn’t hear it.
They were halfway to the alley when one of the Zoranians turned.
Shane froze, his breath catching in his throat. The soldier’s golden eyes scanned the rubble, his spines flickering as he raised his weapon.
“Va’tok,” the soldier called, his voice sharp. “Movement.”
Shane’s grip tightened on the generator’s activation switch. He could feel the family behind him, their terror palpable.
The commander approached, his heavy boots crunching on the debris. His gaze swept the area, narrowing as it settled on the collapsed solar array.
Shane held his breath, his finger hovering over the switch. His mind raced, calculating distances, escape routes, probabilities.
And then something unexpected happened.
The younger soldier, the one who had called out, hesitated. His weapon lowered slightly, his gaze lingering on the shadows where Shane and the family were hidden.
“Dren’val,” Va’tok growled. “What are you waiting for?”
The soldier didn’t answer immediately. His spines flicked back, and his jaw tightened. “It’s nothing,” he said finally, stepping back. “Probably just the wind.”
Va’tok glared at him but said nothing. After a tense moment, he turned and gestured for the patrol to move on.
Shane exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest easing as the patrol’s footsteps receded into the distance. He glanced at the family, their faces pale but relieved, and motioned for them to keep moving.
They reached the alley without incident, the narrow passage winding through the remains of what had once been a bustling district. Shane led them to a makeshift shelter hidden beneath a collapsed tower, its entrance concealed by debris.
Inside, a handful of other survivors looked up as they entered, their expressions a mixture of relief and despair. Shane set the generator down carefully, its hum filling the small space as he adjusted the settings.
“Stay here,” he told the mother, his voice firm but kind. “You’ll be safe for now.”
She nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Shane gave her a faint smile before turning back toward the entrance, generator ready. He didn’t feel like a hero. He didn’t even feel brave. But he knew there were more people out there; more lives that needed saving.
And as he stepped out into the ruined streets of Meridian, he couldn’t shake the image of the Zoranian soldier. The hesitation in his eyes. The doubt in his voice.
For the first time, Shane felt a flicker of hope. Maybe the Zoranians weren’t as united in this war as they seemed.
Shane moved quickly but carefully through the ruins, his footsteps soft against the uneven ground. The streets were eerily quiet now, the distant rumble of collapsing buildings and the faint crackle of fires the only sounds breaking the stillness. He kept the shield generator slung over his shoulder, its weight a constant reminder of the lives depending on it.
He’d already helped one group of survivors find safety. If he could secure another shelter or scavenge more supplies, it might make the difference for the next family he found.
Turning a corner, he froze.
They were there, less than twenty feet away… the Zoranian patrol.
Shane’s heart leapt into his throat. Four of them stood in the street, their weapons lowered but ready, their posture tense. He recognized the commander immediately: the one with golden eyes and spines flaring slightly in agitation.
The Zoranians hadn’t seen him yet. They were huddled close, their voices low but audible in the quiet.
POV: Zoranians
“Va’tok, this is pointless,” Dren’val said, his voice strained but firm. His weapon hung loosely in his claws, the muzzle pointed at the ground. “We’ve been through this sector twice now. There’s nothing here but civilians.”
Va’tok’s spines bristled, and he turned sharply to face the younger soldier. “And what would you have us do, Dren’val? Walk away? Do you think the humans would show us the same mercy?”
Dren’val hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Commander, I’m not saying we abandon our mission. But look around you. This city wasn’t a threat. These people-” He gestured toward the ruins surrounding them. “-they aren’t soldiers. They’re just trying to survive.”
Ka’riv, standing slightly apart from the others, spoke up cautiously. “Dren’val isn’t wrong, Commander. I’ve seen no sign of the weapons we were told to expect. If anything, this looks more like… like a sanctuary.”
Va’tok’s gaze darkened, and his claws flexed against the grip of his rifle. “Enough,” he growled. “We follow orders. If the humans here are truly innocent, they’ll surrender and be spared. If they resist, they’re no better than the rest.”
POV: Mixed
Shane’s foot slipped on a loose stone, sending it clattering down the rubble-strewn street.
The Zoranians turned as one, their weapons snapping into position.
“Human!” Va’tok barked, his voice sharp as a blade. “Show yourself!”
Shane froze, his mind racing. He was exposed, with no cover to retreat to. The shield generator wouldn’t protect him from their rifles… not for long.
Slowly, he raised his hands, stepping into the open. The Zoranians’ eyes locked onto him, their expressions a mix of wariness and hostility.
“You’re alone?” Va’tok demanded, his spines flaring.
Shane nodded, his throat dry. “Yes,” he said, his voice shaking despite his efforts to steady it.
The commander studied him, his golden eyes narrowing. “What are you carrying?”
Shane hesitated, his gaze flickering to the generator slung over his shoulder. “It’s… a shield generator. For protection. It’s not a weapon.”
Va’tok’s spines twitched, and he motioned for Ka’riv to approach. The soldier moved cautiously, her weapon trained on Shane as she reached for the generator.
Shane flinched as her claws brushed the device, but she didn’t pull it from him. Instead, her gaze softened slightly as she examined it. “Commander,” she said, her voice calm. “It’s as he says. This isn’t a weapon.”
Va’tok’s expression hardened. “Then what is he doing here? If he’s not a soldier, why isn’t he hiding with the others?”
Shane swallowed hard, his mind scrambling for the right words. “I’m trying to help people,” he said finally. “There are families out there… children. They need food, shelter, protection. I’m not here to fight.”
For a moment, the Zoranians were silent. Dren’val’s weapon lowered slightly, his gaze flickering with something that looked like guilt. Ka’riv exchanged a glance with the younger soldier, her spines lowering.
“You see, Commander?” Dren’val said quietly. “This isn’t war. It’s… it’s slaughter.”
Va’tok turned on him, his spines flaring in anger. “Hold your tongue, Dren’val. You forget yourself.”
“No,” Dren’val replied, his voice firm. “I haven’t forgotten. But maybe you have.”
The tension hung thick in the air, the Zoranians exchanging uneasy glances as Va’tok’s claws tightened on his rifle.
Shane’s heart raced, his hands still raised as he watched the exchange. He could see the cracks forming in their unity, the doubt flickering in their eyes.
Finally, Va’tok snarled and stepped back. “Go,” he spat at Shane, his voice laced with bitterness. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”
Shane hesitated, his gaze flickering to Ka’riv and Dren’val. The younger soldier gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod.
“Thank you,” Shane said softly before turning and disappearing into the ruins.
As he moved deeper into the shadows, he glanced back once, just in time to see Va’tok shove Dren’val roughly, his voice rising in anger. The patrol was breaking. Fracturing under the weight of their orders.