Jeremy’s spear shifted on his back as he walked to the classroom. His friends matched his pace, the silence between them heavier than words. Today wasn’t just a lesson—it was a test, the kind that separated soldiers from survivors.

  The classroom hummed with machinery, its walls lined with maps crisscrossed by faded ink. Holograms flickered with troop formations. A central table overflowed with blueprints and miniature cityscapes.

  Mr. Hendrikson stood silhouetted against a glowing map of a city, casting a commanding shadow. His eyes pinned them the moment they stepped inside.

  “On time,” he remarked, his gruff voice tinged with grudging approval. “Good. You’ll need every second today to prove you can think like soldiers, not children playing with sharp toys.”

  He gestured to the table, his hand moving with surprising precision for its size. “Today’s focus: offensive strategies in urban warfare. Yesterday I gave each of you a scenario. Today, you’ll present your plan, defend it, and adapt under scrutiny. If it fails here, it fails in the field. Understood?”

  Jeremy exchanged a glance with Marcus, whose jaw was set with quiet determination. They straightened their postures, bracing for what was to come.

  “Valen,” Hendrikson barked, his gaze locking onto Marcus. “You’re up.”

  Marcus stepped forward, his stride steady, though Jeremy caught the slight clench of his fists. Pointing at the map, Marcus’s voice rang clear. “So, my idea is to split the enemy’s focus. We’d send teams here and here,” he pointed, “to draw them away while we hit their weaker spots.”

  Hendrikson’s eyes narrowed. “What stops those diversions from being overwhelmed? And what if the enemy adapts faster than expected?”

  Marcus hesitated but recovered quickly. “Uh, we’d move quickly—not give them time to pin us down.”

  “Interesting,” Hendrikson said, but his tone held doubt. “Comments?”

  Perci crossed her arms. “If they’re seen, the enemy could quickly surround them. What’s the backup plan?”

  Marcus stiffened, then nodded. “Fallback routes. And maybe we have reinforcements ready, just in case.”

  Hendrikson grunted. “Better. But anticipate the unexpected. Dismissed.”

  “Perci,” Hendrikson called.

  Perci stepped up, moving with the precision of someone who’d already rehearsed this a dozen times in her head. She pointed to a web of alleys on the map. “My plan is all about sneaking around. We avoid the big roads and stick to hidden paths to take out their higher tiered warriors first.”

  Hendrikson’s tone stayed sharp. “What’s your extraction plan if infiltration is compromised?”

  Perci traced two narrow alleys. “We’d already have our exits figured out. If they find us, we’d distract them and slip out.”

  Marcus frowned. “But what if they block your exits?”

  “Then we’d go to backup routes,” Perci said calmly. “And I’d leave a small team behind to make some noise and keep them busy.”

  Hendrikson’s gaze lingered on her. “A solid foundation. But stealth is fragile. Plan for the worst. Dismissed.”

  “Jeremy. Your turn.”

  Jeremy’s heart thudded, but he forced his legs to move. At the table, he traced a direct line across the map. “Uh, I think we should go straight at their strongest spot. Hit them hard and fast so they can’t fight back properly.”

  Hendrikson raised an eyebrow. “And when you hit resistance you can’t break?”

  “We’d keep them busy with ranged attacks and send some people around to hit them from the sides,” Jeremy said quickly.

  Perci tilted her head. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to hold some people back from the start?”

  Jeremy exhaled. “Yeah, good point. We’d keep a group in reserve just in case.”

  Hendrikson’s lips twitched in what might have been approval. “Adaptation. Remember that. Dismissed.”

  “Andrew,” Hendrikson barked.

  Andrew stepped up, his calm expression masking whatever nerves he might have felt. He circled several buildings on the map. “I think we should hold these spots. It’d make them think we’re a bigger group, and they’d waste time trying to figure us out.”

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  Hendrikson tilted his head. “But defense alone won’t win a war. How do you turn it into an offensive?”

  Andrew nodded. “We’d use decoys to make them think we’re going one way. Then we hit them somewhere they don’t expect.”

  Marcus frowned. “What if they just ignore your decoys?”

  Andrew’s voice was steady. “The decoys would do stuff—like fake supply runs or reinforcements—to keep them confused. And we’d keep in touch so we can change plans fast.”

  Hendrikson’s expression was unreadable. “Not bad. Work on it. Dismissed.”

  He surveyed the group, folding his arms. “You’ve shown progress, but war doesn’t care about effort. It cares about results. By the time you step onto a battlefield, I expect perfection. Dismissed.”

  The cold air hit them as they exited the classroom, sharp and bracing. Jeremy glanced at his friends. In their eyes was something new: an unspoken understanding of the weight on their shoulders. No one spoke, but they all knew the truth. War wasn’t coming. It was here, and they had one week to prove they could survive it.

  The week passed in a blur of classes and city simulations. Each day began with Hendrikson’s booming voice. They practiced urban warfare in the simulation, honing their strategies and adapting to unpredictable challenges. One particularly intense simulation involved navigating a cityscape under constant bombardment from the Xelarians. Jeremy sprinted down a narrow alley, his heart pounding as debris crashed around him. Perci darted ahead, silently taking out a sniper while Marcus barked orders to cover their retreat. Andrew, holding a defensible position, baited enemy units into Perci’s traps. Every misstep was met with sharp critique, but failure only drove them harder.

  Jeremy found himself absorbing every lesson, his mind constantly running through countermeasures and possibilities. Yet, doubt gnawed at him in quiet moments. He replayed Hendrikson’s critiques, questioning if his bold strategies were reckless. His focus on overwhelming force felt like the right approach, but what if he led others into danger by underestimating the enemy? More than once, he caught himself waking in the middle of the night, gripping his spear as if he were already on the battlefield.

  Every misstep seemed amplified by the silent expectation that he would excel. Jeremy pushed harder during drills, driving himself to exhaustion, hoping that sheer effort would drown out his doubts. He noticed his friends doing the same: Marcus refining his diversions until they flowed like clockwork, Perci perfecting her silent infiltration routes, Andrew balancing his defensive postures with calculated counterattacks. Their teamwork grew sharper, each role fitting into the others like pieces of a puzzle.

  By the end of the week, exhaustion clung to them, but so did a newfound confidence. During a rare break between drills, the group gathered by a shaded bench near the courtyard. Marcus passed around water bottles, his expression unusually light. "You know," he said, wiping sweat from his brow, "if we survive the war, I’m claiming a week-long nap."

  Perci snorted. "You wouldn’t last a week. Three days in and you’d be itching to boss us around again."

  "And you’d miss it," Marcus shot back with a grin.

  Mia chuckled softly. "You all can nap and feast after we win. Until then, I’m counting on you to keep me alive."

  Perci raised an eyebrow. "Oh, is that how it works? Should we start charging for protection services?"

  Marcus tapped his chin in mock consideration. "Interesting offer. Perci and I take turns, and you cover dessert forever."

  "Deal," Mia said without hesitation, then added, "unless dessert includes rubber."

  The group’s laughter filled the brief pause between drills—a fragile yet comforting moment that reminded them what they were fighting for. They weren’t just soldiers-in-training; they were a family piecing itself together under the shadow of what’s to come.

  As the laughter faded, Jeremy’s expression darkened slightly. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and spoke in a lower tone. “During our simulations this week… we killed Xelarian civilians.”

  The group froze. Marcus’s grin vanished, Perci straightened, and Andrew’s usual calm faltered. “We all did,” Marcus said cautiously. “You know it wasn’t real, right?”

  Jeremy nodded slowly, staring at the ground. “It didn’t feel fake. The way they screamed… begged for mercy. I knew it was a simulation, but it still felt wrong.”

  Perci’s eyes flicked to Andrew, who looked conflicted but composed. “What was your hesitation about?” she asked softly. “It’s what they’re teaching us. Collateral damage happens in war.”

  Jeremy exhaled shakily. “I didn’t hesitate to kill the soldiers. But when it came to the civilians, I just stood there for a moment. And when I finally attacked… it’s not something I want to feel again.”

  Andrew broke the silence, his tone firm but sympathetic. “None of us liked it, Jeremy. It’s awful, but it’s part of the scenario. They’re trying to prepare us for situations where we have to make this choice.”

  Jeremy’s voice wavered. “Does it prepare us, though? Or does it just make us numb to it?”

  Marcus crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. “We’re not supposed to be numb. We’re supposed to understand the stakes. We have to choose between the safety of Humans or Xelarians, and I will always pick us.”

  “And what about after?” Jeremy’s voice rose slightly. “When it’s over, how do we live with knowing we made that choice?”

  Perci’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension. “Why would you care about non-humans Jeremy?” Her voice softened, “My brother—he was nineteen, fresh out of school. They sent him to the frontlines, and he never came back." Her gaze was steady at Jeremy, her tone unwavering. "Aliens like these took away my brother, and I’d do anything to make sure no one else ends up like him.”

  The question hung in the air like a blade. Jeremy looked at her, unsure how to respond. Finally, Andrew spoke, his voice quiet but steady. “It’s not fair, Jeremy. None of it is. But that’s why we’re here—to learn how to make those calls, no matter how much they hurt.”

  Jeremy leaned back, his chest tight but his mind slightly clearer. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I’m not sure I’ll ever make peace with it, but it helps to know you’re here.”

  Marcus clapped a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Always, man. We’re in this together.”

  The group’s banter carried on for a few moments, the camaraderie a brief but vital reprieve from the unrelenting pressure. It was in these moments that Jeremy felt the bond between them solidify. They weren’t just training partners—they were a team. The stakes were real now. War loomed over the horizon like a storm, and Hendrikson made sure they felt its weight with every passing hour.