The war room beneath the United Nations vibrated constantly now.
From the tremors of explosions above, shaking dust from the ceiling like snow.
Screens glowed with streams of data,
live satellite feeds, battlefield telemetry, intercepted alien signals, casualty numbers that climbed too fast.
General Reyes stood over the central display, eyes red, voice raw.
"Everyone quiet," he said. "We need to confirm what we're seeing."
A technician pulled up a hologram of alien deployments.
Red dots swarmed like locusts across the continents.
"These are the forces we've engaged so far," she said. "Infantry, drones, exo-soldiers, armored units, atmospheric dropships."
General Okoye crossed his arms. "And you're telling me this… this nightmare… isn't their full army?"
The tech swallowed. "Not even close."
The room froze.
Reyes turned sharply. "Explain."
She brought up another screen this one showing atmospheric descent patterns, ship hull types, and energy signatures.
"These crafts are small-scale..invasion scouts, landing craft, tactical strike units."
A Chinese admiral leaned forward. "You're saying these are… advance troops."
"More like a planetary spearhead," she said quietly. "Designed to secure landing zones. Probe our defenses. Prepare ground conditions for the main force."
A silence heavy enough to crush hope settled on the room.
President Alvarez whispered, "My God… this is the warm-up."
The Secretary-General closed her eyes. "Do we have a timeline?"
The tech hesitated. "Based on movement patterns and orbital readings…" She inhaled. "We estimate the main fleet arrives in seven to ten days."
No one breathed.
Ten days?
They could barely hold ten hours.
General Sharma from India said it first, his voice barely above a growl.
"They're testing us."
Reyes nodded. "Evaluating our response. Our weapons. Our tactics. How fast we mobilize."
General Okoye slammed his fist against the table. "So if we fight too well, they bring more. If we fight too poorly… they wipe us."
President Ito of Japan rubbed his temples. "We still do not know if the Galactic Rules truly apply. Everything we assume is guesswork."
"Not guesswork," a French intelligence officer corrected. "Inference. They haven't used orbital bombardment once."
"Yet," Reyes said.
The room fell even colder.
A radar operator shouted suddenly, "New aerial engagements! Patching feed—"
Screens lit up with real-time footage.
Over the skies of eastern Europe, a formation of human jets screamed through the clouds.
Twelve F-35s.
Three Su-57s.
Two Rafale squadrons.
A mishmash of NATO, Russian, and Asian aircraft flying in formation like old enemies who finally remembered they were human first.
Alien ships swarmed them sleek, beetle-shaped flyers with no visible engines, moving in eerie, smooth arcs.
"They're adapting," Reyes said, watching the feed.
And they were.
Human missiles had worked earlier.
Now the aliens twisted mid-flight, bending trajectories with gravitational shifts.
A missile that should have hit its mark spun off wildly, detonating empty air.
"Jesus," an American officer muttered. "Their ships… they're learning our weapons."
But the jets didn't quit.
Dogfights exploded across the clouds . missiles, vapor trails, energy beams slicing through the sky.
Two alien ships collided mid-turn, losing control.
A Russian pilot shouted, "You are not invincible, you bastards!"
Another alien craft cut an American jet's wing clean off.
The pilot ejected.
His chute barely opened before a drone vaporized him.
The feed cut.
A tense silence followed.
"These airborne units…" Okoye muttered. "This wasn't in the first hour. They're deploying new types already."
"Scouting force," Reyes said darkly. "But with an adaptive algorithm."
He pointed to the hologram.
"This isn't a war. It's a laboratory. They're studying us."
On another screen, ground battle feeds flickered to life helmet cams, street cameras, drone views, body cams, anything still transmitting.
What they showed was no longer a battle.
It was a grinder.
Poland, Warsaw Outer Districts
Humans held a barricade built from broken cars and sandbags.
Civilians teenagers, old men, nurses, off-duty chefs stood beside soldiers.
A sergeant yelled, "Hold the line! HOLD—"
A swarm of alien drones swooped low, beams firing.
The line shattered like glass.
Screams erupted.
Half the defenders fell instantly.
A woman tried to drag a wounded man back she was hit, thrown into debris.
A tank fired point-blank, obliterating an alien exo-soldier only for another to jump atop the tank and tear the turret off with terrifying strength.
Humans retreated building by building, firing blindly, desperately.
China, Outskirts of Guangzhou
A battalion fought inside the ruins of a mall.
Glass rained down.
Shattered storefronts became trenches.
Bodies lay in piles where firefights had lasted seconds.
Alien infantry moved with mechanical discipline.. scanning, firing, advancing.
A young soldier screamed into his radio, "We need backup! They're pushing through the atrium—"
He cut off abruptly as a beam crushed his chest inward.
United States, Colorado Defense Line
National Guard units fought alongside civilians on a mountain road.
Snow turned red.
Alien drop-pods rained down, splitting open like metal eggs.
Exo-soldiers emerged, firing instantly.
A bearded volunteer shouted, "Get behind the rocks! MOVE!"
An alien blast slammed him into a tree so hard his spine bent backward.
Explosions shook the ridge.
A captain roared, "Artillery! FIRE!"
Howitzers thundered.
For a moment, the alien advance slowed.
Then alien counter-artillery responded....precise, rapid, merciless..turning entire sections of forest into burning craters.
The camera feed cut abruptly.
Nigeria.
A refugee convoy stretched miles long.
Alien drones descended like vultures.
Human soldiers fought from armored personnel carriers, firing machine guns upward.
Civilians ducked and screamed inside trucks and buses.
A mother shielded her child.
A man grabbed a falling soldier, dragging him back into cover.
A teenage boy threw rocks at a drone in hopeless defiance.
A drone swooped, firing...
The feed went black.
No one in the war room spoke for a long time.
Not because they were shocked.
Because they were numb.
Reyes finally broke the silence.
"That's the scouting force," he said quietly. "That's what they consider the weak part of their army."
General Sharma whispered, "What happens when the real army arrives?"
Reyes stared at the red map.
At the dying cities.
At the grinding front lines.
At the endless red dots descending from the sky.
"We won't survive," he said plainly. "Not like this."
The Secretary-General's voice was thin but sharp. "Then we change the rules."
"How?" someone asked desperately.
She turned slowly, eyes hard.
"We learn faster. Adapt faster. Fight dirtier. Build bigger armies. Use every trick we have. And pray..pray to whatever gods exist...that humanity evolves before their main fleet arrives."
Reyes nodded.
"Because when the real war starts…"
He looked at the utterly overwhelmed front lines on the map.
"Every defender alive right now is just buying time."