In a dimly lit room, shadows loomed large as three figures sat stiffly across from one another, they they-streakeddith an almost unbearable tension.
The only object dividing them was a sleek silver table that gleamed faintly in the half-light, its surface reflecting the erratic flickering of a bulb that seemed to be on its last legs—or filament, to be precise.
The bulb's inconsistent glow danced over the trio's faces, turning furrowed brows and clenched jaws into an eerie chiaroscuro.
The first figure, a tall man with piercing blue eyes, leaned forward slightly, his expression one of barely contained frustration, as if he were a volcano in a business suit.
Opposite him, a woman with dark, wavy hair sat rigidly, her lips pressed so tightly together they might've been mistaken for a badly stitched wound.
Meanwhile, the third figure, an older gentleman with grey-streaked hair and a frown so pronounced it could've doubled as a canyon, glanced between the two like a referee unwillingly drafted into a heavyweight bout.
The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the occasional, almost apologetic hum of the bulb.
Their locked gazes seemed to wrestle mid-air, each pair of eyes emitting enough intensity to power a small city.
Small gestures—the tightening of fingers over clasped hands, the shifting of weight—hinted at a simmering conflict that threatened to boil over.
It was as if the room itself held its breath, praying the walls wouldn't have to bear witness to whatever eruption was brewing.
Then, as if on cue from a sci-fi director with a flair for drama, a bluish beam of light pierced the room.
It widened, growing steadily to three inches wide and spanning an impressive eighty inches in length.
The elderly man's eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked like a kid seeing a magic trick for the first time.
Relief washed over him as figures began stepping through the glowing portal, their silhouettes haloed by the ethereal light. If not for the tension hanging like an invisible anvil, it might've been a beautiful scene.
One by one, the newcomers emerged, blinking at the dimly lit room and exchanging puzzled glances.
The group's numbers swelled to nine, their presence barely acknowledged by the pair still locked in their epic stare-down, who seemed determined to win a contest nobody else understood.
The rest settled into their seats cautiously, like students arriving late to a lecture where they weren't sure if the professor was eccentric or outright unhinged.
They exchanged furtive glances, their eyes flickering between the central figures. The silence grew heavier, stretching like an elastic band on the verge of snapping.
Any sound—even a sneeze—felt like it might ignite the unspoken tension into a full-blown inferno.
Finally, the dark-haired woman broke the silence, clearing her throat with the kind of theatrical purpose that demanded attention.
Her piercing blue eyes swept the room before she began, her voice carrying the weight of authority mixed with just a hint of exasperation.
"Welcome, everyone," she announced, her tone as steady as a metronome. "I called this meeting because we face a significant issue that demands our immediate and collective focus."
The group froze, hanging on her every word like she'd just declared the end of happy hour. Her deliberate pauses only amplified the sense of urgency, giving her words the gravitas of a prophet delivering a bad weather forecast.
"We must collaborate effectively," she continued, her gaze sharp enough to cut glass.
"We must address the challenges ahead with full commitment and insight."
Her attention flicked between the attendees. First, it landed on a tall, muscular man whose bald head shone under the flickering light like a freshly polished bowling ball.
He nodded solemnly, his air of quiet strength offset slightly by the faint squeak of his leather chair.
Next, she studied a middle-aged woman whose kind expression and crisp white blazer created an odd juxtaposition, as though she were a headmistress who'd traded classrooms for war rooms. Who also nodded.
Finally, her gaze rested on a young woman with vibrant attire who screamed "I'm fun but also pay my taxes." Each nodded in turn, their silent agreement adding to the room's mounting seriousness.
"They have been spotted in Earth's territory," the dark-haired woman declared, her voice slicing through the air like a knife through overcooked steak.
"While no conflicts have occurred yet, a confrontation feels inevitable."
The blond man, who until now had been holding his composure with the fragility of a house of cards in a wind tunnel, snapped.
His blue eyes turned blood red, an unsettling visual that screamed, "I am both furious and possibly cursed." "They are just children!" he burst out, his voice a blend of anger, desperation, and something that might've been mild indigestion.
"So many lives were lost to prevent this strategy from being used again."
The woman didn't flinch. If anything, she seemed to grow taller, her calm resolve taking on an almost statuesque quality.
"I never make decisions without considering all outcomes," she replied, her voice steady enough to anchor a ship in a storm.
"Make no mistake: they will strike. The question is not if, but when."
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose like a parent on their third PTA meeting of the week.
"We've lost the element of surprise. They know our strengths and weaknesses. The very foundation of our current technology was introduced by them. This puts us at a severe disadvantage."
Taking a deep breath, she added, "I'm not suggesting immediate deployment. I propose training all capable individuals so that when the time comes, we're prepared."
Her rare display of emotion struck the group like a slap to the face, leaving them stunned and, more importantly, silent.
Eventually, the room voted. The dark-haired woman's persuasive arguments swayed the majority, leading to a decisive victory for the training proposal.
The blond man, though reluctant, nodded, his resistance softening like butter under the heat of reality.
The next morning, the government made an announcement so dramatic it could've been delivered with a drumroll.
Mandatory military training for everyone aged 16 and older. Five rigorous years.
Resistance was met with fines so steep they made parking tickets look like loose change, or worse, labour camp sentences that redefined the term "working vacation."
As the nation braced itself for the enemy's offensive, one thing became clear: humour might be in short supply, but unity, resilience, and sacrifice were now the currency of survival.
*****
In a distant part of the universe, a different gathering was taking place. Unlike the previous assembly of six, this group was marked by an even greater diversity.
Each individual appeared to have been sculpted out of a masterpiece, their features resembling those of Greek gods.
They exuded an otherworldly beauty, with flawless skin and striking profiles that captured the essence of youth.
Not one among them seemed to have reached the age of 25; they radiated vitality and vigour, embodying the peak of human form and elegance.
Their beauty was nothing short of transcendent, evoking a sense of the divine that would leave any human awestruck. At first glance, they appeared almost human, but a closer look revealed intricate markings etched across their bodies, telling a story that was anything but ordinary.
These markings, while reminiscent of tattoos, were something altogether unique; they resembled delicate vines and leaves, an elegant tribute to the natural world.
In addition, their skin seemed to shimmer with gemstones crafted from stones that sparkled like diamonds in a myriad of colours, each hue seemingly extracted from their very being.
The play of light on these exquisite features created a dazzling spectacle, further emphasizing the extraordinary essence of their existence.
They were gathered around a round table, their attention fixed on the centre where a holographic projection of a solar system floated, vibrant and pulsating with colours.
Beneath it, the words "East Sammer way Human Territory" glowed softly, anchoring the scene in a palpable reality.
Amidst the murmurs, an individual with an undeniable presence rose to speak. His voice was smooth and enchanting, with a melodic cadence that carried a hint of authority, almost capable of weaving a trance over any unsuspecting listener.
The richness of his brown skin radiated with a subtle golden sheen, catching the light in a mesmerizing way.
His striking blue eyes sparkled with flecks of silver, adding an otherworldly depth to his gaze.
The fullness of his lips, framed by long, elegant lashes, complemented his tall and commanding stature—an embodiment of beauty and strength that rendered his peers nearly insubstantial by comparison.
Though this feature made him stand out, they were not the definitive thing that made him appear as a leader; instead, the crown on his head did so.
It seemed simple, resembling vines with jungle green leaves and small red vines, unless one looked closer, they could not tell that the simple crown was made of Safir green diamond.
Gold, as well as silver, were cleverly used to create the vine's place so well that they reflected the Safire of the diamond. Making them appear green. Scarlet diamonds were also used as decorative fruits.
The opulent crown perched upon his head, intricately designed to mirror the unique markings that adorned his skin, set him apart as the unmistakable leader in the gathering. It glittered in the dim light, its ornate structure demanding attention and respect.
"The humans have likely noticed our movements," he stated, his voice smooth and composed, resonating with an unnerving calmness.
His demeanour commanded the room, even as his words hinted at the tension of the situation.
One of the others, his shaggy brown hair cascading wildly around his angular features, stepped forward.
His fiery yellow eyes burned with intensity, radiating a fierce beauty amid the gathered assembly.
"Svasna, my Majesty," he urged, his tone potent with urgency. "Why delay our strike when they are so unsuspecting? They remain primitive, utterly outmatched by our power."
A sudden chill swept through the room, filling the air with an unsettling tension as the leader fixed his intense gaze on the man with brown hair.
His eyes burned with fury, not merely because the man had dared to speak without being addressed, but due to the gravity of his words.
"Is this not the very thought that precipitated our past failure?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
The man leaned back in his chair, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as he processed the leader's accusation, the weight of the moment settling heavily between them.
The leader stood up and ordered the others to keep investigating and preparing for their next move.
With that he ended the meeting leaving no room for discussion. His mood was clearly ruined.