Arathea
The night was cold, the air thick with fog and tension. Above us hung the Draethian mothership, humanity's final obstacle in a decades-long war. At roll call, I addressed my troops: "This is it. The war ends tonight—with us."
Our shuttle landed, and chaos erupted. Lasers filled the air as Draethians overwhelmed the hangar. Men fell around me, but I rallied Matt and Mark, my last soldiers. "We need a distraction," I said.
Using the C4 from the shuttle, we lured the Draethians into a trap. The explosion shattered the hangar, giving us enough cover to sprint toward the electrical core. Alarms blared as we navigated the labyrinthine halls. With moments to spare, we reached the core, planted the explosives, and ran for our lives.
At a fork in the corridors, instinct guided us left. A cruiser stood guarded by three Draethians. Three shots later, we were aboard.
As we launched into space, the mothership detonated behind us in a blinding explosion. The sky, for the first time in years, was clear. The war was over. Humanity had won.
