The helicopter moved low over the waves, its engines echoing across the quiet sea. Wind blasted hard against the shore as the aircraft closed in on the small island ahead.
Palm trees bent under the force, sand and dust swirling into the air like smoke.
Inside, the marines sat silent. The light from the sun flickered across their faces, helmets down, eyes steady.
Most of them carried concealed sidearms under their vests a standard protocol for non-combatant contacts but a few hidden in the back were heavily armed, just in case.
The crew chief held on to the handle near the door, shouting over the noise, "Thirty seconds!"
Outside, the beach came into view — flat, open, and empty except for a few dark shapes near the treeline. The helicopter began to slow, kicking up a storm of sand as it touched down.
The marines moved fast, disembarking in a smooth line. Boots hit the sand hard. They spread out and took position, forming a wide perimeter around the landing site.
The air was filled with the constant hum of the rotors. Sergeant Blake Thomson stepped out next, adjusting his cap against the wind.
He looked toward the tree line where movement was starting to show figures — coming forward slowly.
They weren't soldiers, at least not in the same way. The group that approached carried long banners and wore a mix of armor and cloth, the colors faded but still proud.
A few men stood ahead of the rest, carrying spears and shields polished from use. Their faces showed tension, but not hostility.
The marines held their ground, hands off their weapons but ready.
Thomson raised a hand, signaling them to stay calm. The locals stopped about thirty meters away. No one spoke. Only the thumping of the helicopter rotor slowing down filled the silence.
A gust of wind rolled between them, tossing sand across both sides. Thomson took one slow step forward, his movements careful. The man at the front of the local group did the same.
For a moment, both sides simply stood there — two worlds meeting under the same sun, unsure what came next.
[2 Minutes Earlier]
The wind from the metal bird lifted the sands like a storm. Admiral Calis raised an arm to shield his face, while his cloak snapping behind him as the strange craft hovered above the beach.
Its roar was deafening — not like thunder, but it's constant, heavy, unnatural.
The men beside him stood in formation, shields to their sides, banners whipping in the wind. Even the bravest among them looked uneasy.
Calis could see their lips moving beneath their helmets — short, quiet prayers to the sea gods.
A few younger knights gripped their weapons tighter, unsure whether to stand firm or run.
"Hold steady," Calis shouted over the noise. "Do not break ranks!"
The sand struck against their boots, biting at the skin.
His second-in-command, Captain Daren, leaned closer, voice raised. "By the heavens, what is that thing, my lord? A beast of metal?"
Calis didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the strange craft as it landed, its legs pressing into the sand like claws. When the spinning blades began to slow, he finally spoke, his tone calm but heavy. "Whatever it is, it brought men — not monsters. See for yourself."
The first of the foreigners stepped out, their forms hidden behind strange armor and glass. They moved in perfect order, forming a half-circle around the iron beast. No shouting. No panic. Only precision.
Calis studied them carefully. He could not see their eyes, but their stance spoke of discipline — trained soldiers, not raiders.
He took a breath and steadied his hand on the hilt of his sword, more for comfort than defense.
"We came here to meet, not to fight," he said to Daren. "Remember that."
Daren nodded, though his gaze never left the soldiers on the sand. "If they wanted battle, my lord, they would have brought it already."
"Exactly," Calis replied. He stepped forward, feeling the wind lessen as the noise from the craft faded. The air was filled with the sharp smell of burnt oil and salt.
He raised his hand — a signal for his men to follow. "Come. Let us meet these travelers from the sky."
With slow steps, the admiral and his guards moved down the beach, the waves lapping at their boots, hearts caught between fear and curiosity.
[Back To The Present]
Both groups stopped about twenty paces apart. The only sound was the wind and the soft crash of waves behind them.
Admiral Calis stood still, studying the strangers. Their armor was unlike any he had seen — smooth, dark, and shining under the sun.
One of them lifted a small object that blinked with a red light on his chest, pointing it toward the meeting.
Calis assumed it was some kind of tool, maybe a charm, though it looked like no magic he knew.
The man at the center — tall, calm, with a firm posture — took one step forward. Slowly, he raised both hands, palms open. A simple gesture: no harm.
Calis exchanged a glance with Captain Daren, then did the same. The tension seemed to loosen, just a little.
The tall man pointed to himself and said, clearly but slowly, "Captain Thomson… United Earth Navy." He then placed his hand over his chest again. "Friend."
The words meant nothing to Calis, but the tone — steady and open — was clear.
He nodded slightly and replied, "Admiral Calis… Kingdom Fleet." He copied the gesture, placing his hand on his chest. "Friend."
A murmur passed among the soldiers behind him. Some even lowered their weapons.
One of the foreign officers approached, holding a flat, glowing tablet. He knelt and began drawing on its surface with his finger — a map, rough but clear, showing the coastline and the nearby sea.
Then he pointed to one mark and said, "You." Another mark — "Us."
Calis crouched beside him, curious. Using a stick, he drew in the sand the shape of his own island chain and the main port to the east.
When he pointed to both drawings — theirs and his — and made a connecting motion between them, both sides seemed to understand.
The foreigners smiled faintly. One offered a small metal flask, likely water, while another waved a thin flag — white, with a blue emblem. Calis accepted the flask, raising it slightly before drinking.
No words were truly shared, but meaning passed between them — peace, or at least the wish for it.
The waves rolled in again, washing over the marks in the sand, but both groups stood there for a moment longer, watching one another, realizing something bigger had just begun.
The air grew still again after the brief exchange. Both sides seemed unsure what to do next.
Calis looked around — the beach stretched wide, the forest behind it quiet except for the sound of birds. He turned his eyes back to the strangers and then to his men, who waited for his lead.
He pointed toward the inland hills, then to the sand beneath their feet. With slow, open hands, he made a circling motion — the kind used when granting space or passage.
Finally, he looked back at the tall man and said in a steady voice, "Stay… for a time."
Thomson didn't know the words, but the meaning was clear.
He turned to his team, and one of the officers nodded. "He's offering the island, sir — at least part of it," the man said quietly.
Thomson keyed his radio, the signal cutting through the static. "Resolute, this is Ground Team. Possible safe zone confirmed. Locals appear friendly. Permission to establish temporary contact point."
After a short pause, Shepard's voice came back, steady and low. "Understood. Maintain posture. Proceed with goodwill."
Thomson looked back to Calis and gave a sharp nod. Then he reached for the small case strapped to his back and pulled out a pair of dark blue emblems — the crest of the United Earth Navy and Command — and a short ceremonial sword engraved with the United Earth Command (UEC) seal.
He stepped forward, holding them out with both hands. Calis hesitated, then took the sword with care, his eyes fixed on the metal and the strange markings. He gave a small bow, placing his fist over his chest — a soldier's respect.
From the sea, the banners of Calis's ships began to rise, signaling toward the rest of the fleet. The message was clear: Peace granted. Allies met.
For a long moment, both leaders stood there in silence — no common tongue, yet full understanding. The tension that once filled the air faded, replaced by something simpler. Not trust, not yet, but the first step toward it.
The meeting ended with a silent nod between the two sides. No words, just a look that said enough. Thomson stepped back first, motioning to his team. The Marines moved carefully, their boots pressing into the sand as they began to pull away from the shore.
The locals stayed in formation, their banners swaying lightly in the sea wind. Calis stood at their front, the sword still in his hand. He watched as the strangers moved toward the waiting helicopter, the metal craft gleaming under the sunlight.
Its engines started with a rising hum, stirring the sand into small clouds that danced around their feet.
A few of the sailors covered their faces from the wind, eyes wide with disbelief. "The wind from that thing… it moves like a storm," one of them whispered.
Calis said nothing. He only watched.
Thomson looked back once more before boarding. Through the noise of the rotors, he gave a single salute — calm and respectful. The Marines lifted off, and the helicopter rose slowly, the sandstorm fading as it climbed higher and higher above the trees.
"Resolute, this is Ground Team," Thomson said into his headset, voice steady over the static. "Contact established. Hostile intent: negative. Temporary base granted. Locals appear cooperative."
Shepard's reply came after a pause. "Copy that, Ground Team. Well done. Return for debrief."
The helicopter turned toward the horizon where the UEN fleet waited, its silhouette reflecting in the calm sea.
On the ground, Calis and his men stood still, watching until the strange bird was no more than a dot against the clouds.
He glanced at the sword again — its metal strange, the carvings unlike any craft he knew. He gripped it tighter, feeling the weight of what had just begun.
"May the gods forgive what we have welcomed," Calis said quietly.
The waves rolled in, soft and slow, erasing the prints left on the sand. The beach was calm again — but everyone there knew the world had changed.