The news broke before dawn, carried across the globe in fragments of garbled transmissions from deep space. At first, it sounded like another accident: comms failure, an explosion, a technical disaster. But then the audio cleared—screams, static, and a single, chilling line that burned itself into history:
"They are not what we thought… God help us—"
And then silence.
By the time the sun rose over Washington D.C., London, Beijing, and Lagos, the world knew the truth. Ninety-nine percent of the crew sent to the unknown planet were dead. The last fragments of NASA's mission logs painted the story in blood: a hostile world, populated not by primitive lifeforms, but by beings who looked human—stronger, faster, wielding powers that defied physics. To them, Earth's astronauts had been invaders. To Earth, it was an act of war.
The White House, Situation Room
The room was dim, lit by the glow of dozens of monitors showing live feeds from news channels, satellite data, and classified reports. President Elaine Hargrove sat at the head of the table, hands folded, her face pale with exhaustion. Around her were the Joint Chiefs, the Secretary of Defense, and advisors whose voices had been rising steadily for hours.
"They butchered our people," General Hawkins said, slamming his palm on the table. His close-cropped hair and gravel voice carried authority, the kind that silenced even the loudest rooms. "This wasn't a misunderstanding. This was a massacre. If we don't respond with overwhelming force, we are inviting annihilation."
"And how exactly do you suggest we deliver that force?" asked Secretary of State Minh Le, his voice tight. "They destroyed an entire crew armed with the best tech we had. Do you think dropping a few warheads will scare them?"
"It's not about scaring them," Hawkins growled. "It's about survival."
President Hargrove lifted her gaze, her voice steady despite the storm brewing around her. "I understand your position, General. But before we decide on retaliation, we need confirmation. We don't even know the extent of their capabilities. What if their technology dwarfs ours? What if a single misstep brings them here, to Earth?"
A silence fell over the room. The unspoken fear lingered in the air like smoke: What if they could come here already?
Public Reaction – CNN Headquarters, Atlanta
On the massive screen behind anchor Caroline Brooks, shaky footage replayed again and again. Helmet cams from the astronauts, showing towering figures moving through smoke, weapons glowing, voices echoing in an alien tongue. The feed cut before the slaughter, but it was enough.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Brooks said, her voice heavy, "the United States government has confirmed that the crew of the Endeavor II has been attacked and killed by inhabitants of the newly discovered planet, codenamed Kepler-X9. Only one astronaut remains unaccounted for, presumed dead."
Across the country, people watched in shock. Some wept openly. Others screamed at the screens, demanding revenge. Hashtags trended worldwide: #NeverAgain, #WarInTheStars, #AlienThreat.
Protests broke out by afternoon. In New York, crowds gathered outside the United Nations, chanting for retaliation. In Houston, thousands stood outside NASA headquarters, holding photos of the astronauts and candles that flickered in the Texas night.
But not everyone called for war. Online, a quieter movement began spreading: voices asking if Earth had provoked the attack, if maybe sending armed astronauts to a living world had been the first mistake.
Conspiracy forums lit up. Some claimed the government knew all along. Others swore the footage was fake, a tool to justify space militarization. Amid the noise, one truth remained: Earth was no longer alone, and it was no longer safe.
The Pentagon – War Council
General Hawkins stood before a massive projection of Kepler-X9. The alien planet hung like a jewel against the void, blue-green oceans and dark continents swirling under clouds.
"This," Hawkins said, pointing at the projection, "is not a neighbor. It is a predator. And predators don't negotiate."
He tapped a command, and the image shifted to schematics of new weapons projects: orbital strike platforms, deep-space carriers, railguns designed for zero-gravity warfare.
"We begin mobilization immediately. Every defense contractor, every scientist with aerospace clearance, every lab capable of prototyping weapons—they all go into overdrive. We will take the fight to them before they bring it here."
Some of the officers nodded grimly. Others exchanged uneasy glances.
Admiral Ruiz, head of naval operations, raised her hand. "General, with respect—our space fleet is nonexistent compared to what we'd need for an interplanetary war. It could take decades to build what you're describing."
"Then we move faster," Hawkins said. His jaw was stone. "Because if those things land on Earth, decades won't matter. We'll be extinct in weeks."
Global Broadcast – President Hargrove
By evening, every channel across the globe was taken over by a single broadcast. President Hargrove stood at a podium, her expression carved from steel.
"My fellow citizens of Earth," she began, the words echoing into billions of homes. "Yesterday, we reached for the stars with hope. Today, we grieve the lives lost to violence beyond imagination. But we will not falter. We will not bow. Humanity has faced the impossible before, and we will endure again."
She paused, letting silence carry the weight.
"We are not alone in this universe. And now we know—we are not welcome. But make no mistake. We will defend our home, our families, and our future. Together, as one world."
Thunderous applause erupted in the control room behind the cameras. Across Earth, millions of citizens cheered. Others trembled. Children clung to their parents. The war drums had begun.
Late Night – Classified NASA Lab, Houston
Dr. Yusef Karim adjusted his glasses, staring at the feed looping on his monitor. The alien soldiers moved through the smoke, but he wasn't watching their weapons. He was watching the environment.
"Pause there," he told his assistant. The screen froze on a shot of the alien soil. Roots were writhing, curling toward the bodies of fallen astronauts. Not natural movement—hungry movement.
Karim felt a chill crawl down his spine. He leaned closer, whispering to himself.
"This planet… it isn't just alive. It's feeding."