The descent pod cracked open with a hiss as it landed amid the ruins. Ash curled in lazy spirals through the cold air, drifting over what was once a continent. A small squad of Galactic Federation soldiers stepped out uniforms pristine white with thin black stripes along the arms, each one wearing a polished obsidian mask that hid their faces, filtering the dead air. The ground groaned beneath their boots, fractured plates of scorched stone and metal shifting underfoot as if still remembering the day the Earth wept.
Among them was Syrus, a soldier who stood out, not because of his rank, but because of his blood. His skin bore the pale red hue of the Broxy race, the same race as Borarah, the destroyer of systems and the walking nightmare of the 2nd Universe. Because of that connection, most didn't speak to him unless they had to. He understood. His people had earned their reputation with centuries of blood. But Syrus wasn't Borarah. He wasn't like the others who chased war and chaos. He had joined the Federation to prove a point not just to them, but to himself. Broxies could be more. They could build. They could heal. And one day, if he kept going, they could be free of the stain of their past.
Syrus moved carefully through the shattered terrain, visor scanning for radiation spikes, gravitational instability, or worse residual anomalies. Two months ago, he had stood in this very spot. Back then, they'd found survivors. Not many, and none of them made it. Bodies too broken, minds too far gone. But what unsettled him most now… was how different the site felt.
Before, there was panic in the air, chaos clinging to every crater like a scream still echoing. Now, it was quiet. Too quiet. As though the Earth's wound had started to close.
He glanced to the side, toward another soldier walking in silence beside him. Syrus. "Why haven't the Floranians responded yet? It's been two months," he asked, voice quiet, but edged with suspicion.
No answer. The soldier just kept walking, eyes forward.
Syrus didn't press. Of course he won't answer, he thought. It wasn't just that he was Broxy, it was the way he asked questions, always looking deeper, seeing layers others ignored. Some thought it was disobedience. Syrus called it curiosity. The kind that kept people alive.
In Galactic Federation
The silence in the medical chamber was thick, almost sacred. Machines blinked gently, casting a soft glow on the walls. The steady beep of a heart monitor was the only sound in the room.
Then, a soft rustle,a flicker beneath closed eyelids.
And finally, after two long, breathless months... Captain Kaizu opened his eyes.
The white ceiling above him looked unfamiliar, too sterile. His vision was blurry, but the brightness stabbed into his skull like a needle. For a moment, he couldn't tell if he had woken up... or crossed into something beyond life. His body felt foreign. His chest was bound tightly in bandages, his breath shallow and ragged.
He tried to move, his arm lifted barely an inch before dropping back onto the bed. Even that made his ribs throb in protest. His strength was gone, drained by the cosmic radiation that had nearly ended him during the Power Source war. But pain wasn't new to Kaizu. Pain was familiar. Expected.
What he hadn't expected was the silence.
Then... the door hissed open.
Kaizu turned his head slowly, his bones groaning beneath his skin.
Commander Skye entered the room, but not in uniform. Her hair was tied back hastily, her eyes hollow from sleepless nights. A sling wrapped around her shoulder, the scar beneath barely healing. Her posture was stiff but not from injury. It was something else.
She didn't greet him, She didn't smile.
Instead, she crossed the room, pulled up a chair and dropped a thick pile of physical news reports onto his lap.
The weight of them wasn't much, but to Kaizu's weakened body, it felt like stone.
His gaze dropped to the top headline, printed in massive red letters
"Earth has been Destroyed, Galactic Federation Fails."
He stared at it for several seconds. His hands didn't shake but his jaw clenched ever so slightly. His chest rose, then fell. His expression unreadable, but the silence around him... cracked.
Skye didn't speak. She didn't need to. The headlines spoke louder than any accusation.
Images of burning cities, the crying faces of alien refugees, and protest crowds storming Federation buildings were printed on every page.
Kaizu slowly pushed the stack aside and sat up, ignoring the pain flaring through his back.
"How many...?" he rasped, his voice raw, barely human.
Skye hesitated.
"Nine billion. Maybe more." Her voice was quiet.
"Most were human. The rest were species who'd sought protection on Earth after the first wars."
Silence again.
Then Kaizu swung his legs over the bed.
"Kaizu" Skye moved toward him, concerned.
"You're not ready."
"I'm awake," he muttered, standing anyway. "That's enough."
He moved slowly, grabbing the edge of the wall for balance. His knees buckled for a moment, but he didn't fall. Every step was agony but he'd marched through worse. He reached a small locker and found a folded Federation tunic. He didn't bother with the uniform jacket. He pulled the shirt over his bandaged torso, wincing. Let them see he was hurt. Let them see he was still standing.
As they stepped into the hallway, reality struck like a slap.
The Galactic Federation HQ was a hive of panic. Officers and staff darted from room to room, shouting into comms, carrying datapads, reviewing reports. Protest messages blinked across holo screen
Kaizu said nothing as they passed the central hub. His presence did not go unnoticed.
A young soldier, barely out of training, stopped in his tracks when he saw him.
"C-Captain…?" he gasped.
Heads turned. Eyes widened.
A woman dropped her tablet, her mouth trembling in disbelief.
"Captain Kaizu… is awake."
And then whispers turned into waves. One by one, officers turned to stare. Some smiled in relief. Others were too stunned to react. For months they'd wondered if he would ever return. Now, the man who had once stood between them and oblivion had returned from the edge of death.
Kaizu gave a single, slight nod. His face remained calm, but his eyes scanned the chaos like a man reading a battlefield. So much had changed... and not for the better.
"How long?" he asked, not turning his head.
"Two months," Skye answered softly,
walking beside him. "Since the Source War."
He didn't respond.
His hands clenched as they passed a massive viewscreen showing live footage of a riot on Planet Drayeon one of Earth's former trade partners.
"Commander Skye," a voice called through the hallway speakers,
"The press council demands an update on the Captain's condition. Immediately."
Skye sighed, then turned to him.
"When's the press conference?" she asked hesitantly.
"They want answers."
Kaizu didn't blink. His answer came sharp, cold, final.
"Tomorrow."
Skye's breath caught.
"But you just woke up. You can't even stand without"
"I said tomorrow."
And that was it. No more words. Just the look in his eyes, the same one he'd had when he led the charge into the Cyclon Void during the Fourth War. The same one he'd had when he faced Borarah alone.
He wasn't a symbol of peace anymore, now, he was something else.
Something the Universe needed more than ever.