Back on the planet Carter was rapidly approaching—a planet known as Threken—chaos reigned. It had once been a peaceful world, but that was before the arrival of the Vorasis, a ruthless alien species with four arms, who had seized control. The Vorasis ruled through fear and brute force, their towering figures imposing order with their superior strength and technology.
The streets were quiet now, as the citizens had learned to keep their heads down and avoid drawing attention. Above the capital city, the Vorasis flag flew high—a grim reminder of their dominance.
Unbeknownst to the alien invaders, something massive was on its way—hurtling toward them faster than they could have imagined.
[2 hours until impact]
On Threken, the capital city bustles with activity. The native aliens trekan moved through the streets, their gazes cast downward, avoiding the towering Vorasis guards who patrolled the area with menacing stares. The once-thriving planet had been subdued by the four-armed conquerors, its people forced to work under their brutal regime.
Inside the central tower, a Vorasis general observed the city from high above, its four glowing eyes scanning the horizon. "Order must be maintained," it muttered, sending out a command to increase patrols around the resource sectors. "We cannot afford any delays in mining."
Meanwhile, deep in the underground mines, a group of slaves plotted in secret. Among them was Ralak, a former resistance fighter who had been forced into hard labor. Sweat dripped from his brow as he worked, but his eyes burned with determination. "We can't keep living like this," he whispered to his fellow workers. "If we strike now—"
[1 hour, 30 minutes until impact]
"This is our chance," he muttered. "With the guards focusing on the new orders, their attention will be thin. We can break out."
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
The others glanced at him skeptically. “And then what? We fight them barehanded?”
Ralak clenched his fists. "We don’t need weapons—just a distraction. If we can get the signal out to the other cities, the uprising will spread faster than they can react.”
High above, in the Vorasis command tower, the general continued to monitor the city, completely unaware of the rebellion brewing beneath his feet.
[1 hour until impact]
In the dark, grimy tunnels of the mine, the slaves gathered. Ralak stood atop a pile of rubble, his eyes scanning the crowd of weary faces before him. The air was thick with tension, the dim lights casting long, haunting shadows over the huddled figures. He could feel their fear, their hesitation, but also the spark of hope simmering beneath the surface.
He raised his hand, and the murmurs began to die down. The silence that followed was heavy with anticipation, the miners looking to him, uncertain, yet willing to listen.
Ralak took a deep breath, his voice steady but fierce.
“Brothers. Sisters. We have been beaten, broken, and forced to live under the boot of the Vorasis for too long. Every day, they take from us—our freedom, our dignity, our future. They think they have crushed our spirit, that we’ve forgotten what it means to stand tall.”
A ripple of agreement passed through the crowd, but doubt still lingered in the air. Ralak paused, meeting their gazes one by one, feeling the weight of their shared suffering.
“But I see it in your eyes. That fire, that strength—it’s still there. We are not beaten. Not yet. They may have weapons. They may have numbers. But what they do not have… is the will to resist.”
The murmurs grew louder, a hesitant chorus of hope spreading through the group. But Ralak wasn’t done.
“We do!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the chamber, his words like a spark to tinder. “We are not finished! Raise my people—raise yourselves—for we will NOT be broken!”
The words struck like a hammer, and the miners erupted in a chant, louder and louder until the walls of the mine seemed to shake.
“WE ARE NOT FIN—”
BOOOOOOOM!
……..
……..
[Narrator] seems I got the timing a bit off.