POV: Wide Scope
Planet Xas’tra – Zoranian Outpost World, Earth Date April 15, 2434
The twin suns of Xas’tra shone brightly through the crystalline windows of the dwelling, casting shimmering patterns across the polished stone floor. The home buzzed with the quiet sounds of preparation: platters of food laid out on a low table, drinks poured into ornate vessels, and soft laughter rippling among the gathered friends and family.
Ril’ta adjusted the sash of her tunic, the fabric catching the light as she turned to her youngest sibling, Ka’reth, who was laying out a garland of flowering vines. “He’ll notice if we miss a detail,” she said with a soft laugh. “You know how he is.”
Her sibling snorted, their spines twitching in amusement. “Obsessive,” they teased, stepping back to admire their work. “It’s perfect, Ril’ta. You don’t need to stress.”
She smiled, brushing a stray strand of dark, scaled hair behind her ear. “I just want everything to be right. Tvek deserves it after being gone so long.”
Her husband = Tvek’la - was due to return that afternoon from his research expedition to New Handover. His work in biochemical innovation often took him to distant worlds, but this trip had been longer than usual, and Ril’ta had felt his absence keenly.
“It’s good he’s coming back now,” said her mother, Esha’to, from the corner of the room where she was arranging a basket of fruits. “The news has been so grim lately. This family could use some happiness.”
Ril’ta nodded absently, her eyes flicking to the muted holoscreen in the corner. A non-governmental news channel was running a story about heightened tensions with Humanity, but she hadn’t been paying close attention.
The soft chime of the door interrupted her thoughts, and she turned, her spines tingling with anticipation. But it wasn’t Tvek’la. It was one of her neighbors, a kindly elder named Vol’tok.
“I didn’t miss the celebration, did I?” Vol’tok asked, stepping into the home with a smile.
“Not at all,” Ril’ta replied, her spirits lifting. “Tvek’s shuttle should be arriving any moment.”
The gathered group settled into comfortable seats, chatting amiably as they awaited Tvek’la’s arrival. Ril’ta kept an eye on the holoscreen, her gaze occasionally flicking to the live feed of the spaceport.
Then, the news anchor’s voice shifted, her calm tone replaced by something graver. “We interrupt this broadcast with breaking news. Reports are emerging of a large-scale military operation carried out by Zoranian forces on the Human-controlled planet of New Handover.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The room stilled. Ril’ta felt a chill crawl up her spine as the holoscreen shifted to footage of the once-thriving planet… its gleaming cities reduced to smoldering rubble, its landscapes scarred by orbital strikes.
The anchor continued, her voice tight. “The operation, led by Admiral Ra’nok, resulted in the deaths of over 4.3 million beings. Among the victims were Zoranian civilians who resided on the planet, as well as members of other species who called New Handover home.”
A sharp intake of breath filled the room. Ril’ta’s mother covered her mouth, her spines flattened against her back.
“Men, women, children, and countless non-sapient lifeforms perished in what is now being called one of the worst genocides in recent history,” the anchor said. “The planet, known as a hub of peaceful innovation, was home to scientists, artists, and engineers from across the galaxy. It had no military defenses and was widely regarded as a neutral zone for galactic progress.”
Ril’ta froze. Her claws tightened around the edge of the table as the anchor’s words sank in.
“Tvek…” she whispered, her voice cracking.
The room erupted into chaos. Ka’reth’s voice rose in disbelief. “They’re lying! The Humans control the media! They’re trying to paint us as monsters!”
“Why would they?” Vol’tok countered, his voice trembling. “This… this doesn’t look fabricated.”
Ril’ta could barely hear them. Her gaze remained fixed on the screen, which now showed the faces of victims. Beings of all species, their lives reduced to statistics in the wake of the attack. Then came the names of the Zoranian civilians who had lived on New Handover.
Her breath caught in her throat as the list scrolled.
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, no, no!”
She staggered back, her claws digging into her palms as her vision blurred. Her mother rushed to her side, wrapping her arms around her trembling form.
“It’s not true,” Ril’ta sobbed, her voice breaking. “He was supposed to come home. He… he wouldn’t be there if-”
Her words dissolved into choked cries as the weight of the truth crushed her.
The room fell silent again as the broadcast shifted to an image of Admiral Ra’nok, his stern expression filling the screen. The anchor’s voice dripped with condemnation. “Admiral Ra’nok has not yet commented on the operation. Sources within the military suggest that the attack was intended to target a supposed weapons facility; claims that have been debunked by multiple independent investigators.”
Ka’reth slammed a fist against the wall, his spines flaring. “How could they? How could our leaders do this?”
“They lied to us,” Vol’tok said quietly, his voice hollow. “They lied to all of us.”
Ril’ta pulled away from her mother, her grief giving way to a cold, searing anger. “They killed him,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “They killed him, and for what? For nothing.”
Her mother tried to comfort her, but Ril’ta shook her head. “No,” she said, her eyes blazing. “I won’t let this be forgotten. The galaxy needs to know what they’ve done.”
Outside, the twin suns of Xas’tra continued to shine, indifferent to the turmoil below. But inside the home, the light had dimmed.
Ril’ta stood at the center of the room, her grief and anger radiating outward. Around her, the others watched silently, their own beliefs and loyalties beginning to fracture.
Far away, in the depths of Zoranian space, the truth of New Handover was spreading. And with it, the seeds of dissent.
