"When the Great fight, it is the Small who suffer."

- Thuktun Flishithy

New Mumbai, Southwestern New Pangaea. September 11th, 2038. 0700 hours.

It was a bright, serene morning in the Indian colony of New Mumbai. By 7 a.m., the sun had climbed above the horizon, casting a golden glow over the sprawling urban landscape. New Mumbai was not just a colony; it was a vision realized—a modern, dense, and environmentally conscious metropolis. The clear skies complemented the harmonious hum of daily activity, as the sound of construction echoed across the city, signaling the rise of new housing complexes and towering skyscrapers.

New Mumbai had become the crown jewel of New Hin’d, India's frontier on Gaia. Housing over a million citizens, it was the first human colony to break this milestone, a testament to the resilience and ambition of the Indian people. The colony's skyline was dominated by apartment towers, sleek concrete and glass structures that stretched into the heavens. These buildings were designed with modern urban principles, ensuring that every resident was within a short walk or bus ride from essential services.

Wide, pedestrian-friendly roads were shaded by lush green trees, and the absence of personal vehicles made the air refreshingly clean. Public transportation—electric buses and trams—moved silently through the streets, connecting the colony seamlessly. Parks and recreational spaces dotted the urban jungle, creating pockets of tranquility amidst the bustling city.

The streets were alive with activity. Hundreds of thousands of colonists from every corner of India filled the sidewalks, going about their day. Men and women in colorful kurtas, saris, and modern attire mingled freely. Differences of caste, religion, and language seemed to fade in this new land. Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Christians, and others worked side by side, united by a shared purpose: to build a brighter future for themselves and their nation.

Critical infrastructure was already in place. Hospitals, schools, government offices, and fire stations had been constructed, allowing life in the colony to run smoothly. With New Mumbai nearing completion, the Indian government had begun diverting resources to develop other colonies like New Kolkata and Bangalore, ensuring a robust presence on Gaia.

On one of the many tree-lined streets, a young boy named Vinay walked with his mother and younger sister, Riya. They were headed toward the newly completed middle school, a short walk from their apartment. Vinay’s mother had been quick to enroll her children, eager to provide them with stability and a good education in this new world.

Vinay, dressed in a freshly pressed white shirt and blue pants, looked around with excitement. His sister, Riya, clutched their mother’s hand, her nerves evident in the way she glanced at the bustling street. She wore a simple yet colorful salwar kameez, her hair neatly braided by her mother that morning.

Initially, both children had been reluctant to attend school. They missed their old friends from Earth and were nervous about starting over in an unfamiliar place. But their mother, ever patient and firm, had reassured them that they would make new friends and adapt. The threat of taking away their iPhones had also proven effective.

As they walked along the sidewalk, the sound of heavy engines filled the air. A military convoy rolled through the main road, drawing the attention of pedestrians. Tanks, Infantry Fighting Vehicles (IFVs), and armored cars and trucks moved in formation, their steel plating gleaming under the morning sun.

Vinay stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in awe. "Look, Amma!" he exclaimed, pointing at a T-90 Bhishma tank as it rumbled past. Its powerful turret and imposing size made it a spectacle for the young boy, who stared in amazement. Behind it, an Arjun Mk II tank followed, flanked by BMP-2 Sarath IFVs and logistical trucks carrying supplies.

The soldiers accompanying the convoy wore crisp digital camouflage uniforms, their helmets adorned with communication headsets. Indian tricolor patches were visible on their sleeves, and some carried INSAS rifles while others manned vehicle-mounted machine guns.

Riya, however, clung to her mother’s side, her face pale. "Amma, why are they here?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Her mother gently patted her head. "Don’t worry, they’re here to protect us. That’s their job." Though her words were meant to be reassuring, she herself couldn’t help but feel a tinge of unease.

Realizing they were running out of time, she urged the children to continue walking. "Come now, we’ll be late for school," she said, leading them past the convoy.

After a few minutes, they arrived at the school gate. The building was an impressive structure of white and beige, designed with a blend of modern and traditional Indian architecture. The school’s entrance featured a large, intricately carved arch, and the grounds were filled with children and their parents.

The schoolyard buzzed with activity. Children in neat uniforms said their goodbyes to their parents, some nervously clutching their bags, while others ran excitedly toward their friends. Teachers in formal attire stood by the gates, welcoming students and ensuring everyone got inside safely.

Vinay’s mother knelt down to their level, handing each of them a small, neatly packed tiffin box. "Listen, both of you. Focus on your studies and be kind to your classmates. Riya, don’t worry about anything, okay? Vinay will take care of you."

Riya nodded hesitantly, while Vinay puffed out his chest. "I promise, Amma. I’ll look after her," he said with determination.

Their mother smiled and ruffled his hair. "That’s my boy. And remember, Papa will pick you up after school. Tonight, I’ll make your favorite—Butter Chicken."

The siblings smiled at the thought, their worries momentarily forgotten. After one last hug, they waved goodbye and walked through the school gates.

As their mother watched them disappear into the building, a sense of pride welled up inside her. She had worked tirelessly to give her children a fresh start, and seeing them take their first steps into this new chapter filled her with hope.

She turned to leave, unaware that this would be one of the last moments she would see her children.

A distant rumble echoed through the colony, faint but ominous. The convoy they had passed earlier had come to a halt, its vehicles forming a defensive line near the colony’s outskirts. Soldiers disembarked, scanning the horizon with a sense of urgency.

Above the serene skyline of New Mumbai, dark clouds began to gather. A new threat loomed, and the peace that had defined the colony was about to be shattered.

New Mumbai, Southwestern New Pangaea. September 11th, 2038. 0720 hours.

The classroom buzzed with quiet conversation as Vinay sat at his desk, nervously eyeing the other students. He had never seen any of them before, and their accents and clothing hinted at the incredible diversity of the class. Some were from the lush tea gardens of Assam, others from the sprawling deserts of Rajasthan, and a few from the coastal towns of Kerala. It was a vibrant mosaic of modern India, yet it only deepened Vinay’s longing for the friends he had left behind in their small hometown.

The students began to warm up to one another, introducing themselves hesitantly at first but gradually with more enthusiasm. Vinay, despite his initial sadness, decided to make the best of it. He struck up a conversation with a boy sitting next to him, who introduced himself as Rajesh from Bihar. They quickly bonded over their mutual love of cricket. Vinay also got to know Priya, a girl from Mysore, who was eager to share stories about her family's journey to the colony. For the first time that morning, he felt a glimmer of hope.

Before Vinay could speak to more of his classmates, the door opened, and a tall, bespectacled man in his forties walked in. His salt-and-pepper hair and crisp white kurta-pajama gave him an air of authority.

“Good morning, students. My name is Mr. Ramesh Kulkarni, and I will be your homeroom teacher this year,” he said with a warm smile. “Welcome to the first academic year of this school. I know many of you miss home, but together we will create new memories here.”

The students quieted down as Mr. Kulkarni explained how their school year would proceed. Then he announced, “Before we begin, I’d like each of you to come forward, one by one, and introduce yourself. Tell us your name, where you’re from, and something interesting about you.”

One by one, the students took turns. There were students from Kolkata, Chhattisgarh, Orissa, and even far-off Andaman and Nicobar Islands. Each brought a piece of India’s vast culture to the room. As Vinay listened, he grew more comfortable, already imagining how this class might become a second home.

Just as it was about to be Vinay’s turn, a shrill siren pierced the air, reverberating through the classroom walls. Everyone froze.

“What’s happening?” whispered Priya, looking around nervously.

Mr. Kulkarni raised his hand to calm the class. “Stay seated and don’t panic. I’ll go find out what’s going on. Do not leave the classroom, and stay together.” He left, closing the door behind him.

The classroom was filled with uneasy murmurs. Vinay’s thoughts raced back to the military convoy he had seen that morning. Could it be related? His heart pounded as he tried to shake off the growing dread.

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass erupted from the back of the classroom, followed by screams. Vinay spun around to see a bizarre creature lying amidst shards of broken glass. It was horse-like in appearance, but it had golden armor and enormous feathered wings. Gasps filled the room as students scrambled away from the creature.

The Equine groaned and rose shakily to its feet. Its eyes, fierce and unyielding, scanned the room before it drew a gleaming sword from its side and pointed it at the students. It bellowed in an alien language, its voice echoing with a strange, melodic cadence.

“Is it... an alien?” someone whispered, trembling.

Panic erupted. Students screamed and bolted for the door. Others, perhaps emboldened by fear, grabbed books, chairs, and anything they could find to defend themselves. The creature slashed its sword, injuring a few students who got too close, but it was quickly overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Bloodied and battered, it collapsed under the relentless barrage of attacks.

Amidst the chaos, Vinay had only one thought: Riya. He grabbed his bag and sprinted out of the classroom, his mind racing. The hallway was pandemonium. Students flooded out of classrooms, screaming and crying. Teachers shouted over the chaos, trying to maintain order, but it was clear they were just as overwhelmed.

As Vinay darted through the corridor, he saw a janitor and a teacher battling another armored Equine with mops and brooms. The creature snarled and lunged at them, but the improvised weapons kept it at bay.

“Riya!” Vinay shouted, his voice cracking with desperation.

Finally, he heard her voice from a nearby classroom. “Bhaiya!” She was hiding under a desk, her face pale and streaked with tears.

“Come on, we have to go!” Vinay said, pulling her out.

“But my bag—”

“Leave it! We don’t have time!”

Just as they turned to leave, another Equine crashed through the window, landing heavily on the floor. It recovered quickly, its spear gleaming as it pointed it directly at them.

Vinay’s heart pounded as adrenaline surged through him. He grabbed a nearby chair and hurled it at the creature. The impact knocked it off balance for just a moment—enough for Vinay to grab Riya’s hand and drag her out of the room.

They sprinted down the hall, weaving through the terrified crowd. When they finally burst out of the school building, they were greeted by a horrifying sight. The once-clear sky was now darkened by swarms of flying Equines, their golden armor glinting as they rained down chaos upon the colony. Explosions echoed in the distance, and the sharp crackle of gunfire filled the air as the Indian military fought back.

Vinay turned to his sister. “We have to find Mom and Dad.”

“How? We don’t have our phones!” Riya cried.

“I remember the way home. Trust me,” Vinay said, his voice steady despite the chaos.

Riya hesitated, but another explosion nearby sent her running alongside her brother. Their journey through the war-torn streets of New Mumbai had begun—a journey that would forever change their lives.

—

The streets of the colony had descended into chaos. Smoke billowed into the air, accompanied by the acrid stench of burning metal and flesh. The cries of terrified civilians mixed with the sound of shattering glass, clashing weapons, and the alien screeches of the Equines. Vinay held tightly onto Riya’s hand as they darted through the mayhem. His sister was sobbing uncontrollably, her small frame trembling with fear as they ran past the grotesque scenes of death and destruction. Bodies lay scattered on the roads, lifeless and soaked in blood. Their wide, glassy eyes reflected the horrors they had witnessed in their final moments.

Vinay tried to shield Riya from the gruesome sight, urging her to keep her eyes forward. He struggled to focus on the route, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to recall the way home amidst the pandemonium. Every few seconds, he glanced up at the sky, dodging the swooping attacks of the winged Equines. Their golden armor gleamed malevolently in the sunlight, their sharp weapons dripping with the blood of colonists.

As they reached a busy intersection, Vinay froze. People flooded the streets in every direction, screaming and shoving as they tried to escape. He scanned left and right, trying to decide which way to go, but the chaos made it impossible to think clearly. Riya suddenly let out a shriek, pointing at something down the road.

Vinay turned his head to see a massive truck barreling toward them. The driver, his face contorted with fear and desperation, was fending off an Equine that had somehow climbed into the cabin. The truck swerved erratically, narrowly missing pedestrians and smashing into parked cars as the driver struggled to maintain control. Vinay didn’t hesitate. He yanked Riya toward the sidewalk, just as the truck roared past them, missing them by mere inches.

The truck’s rampage came to a catastrophic end as it crashed into the public market building. The vehicle tipped over, its massive frame crushing dozens of people who hadn’t been able to get out of the way in time. The impact sent debris flying in all directions. Riya let out a piercing wail, her small hands clutching Vinay’s arm tightly as she buried her face in his sleeve.

“Don’t look,” Vinay said hoarsely, turning her away from the grisly sight of mangled bodies trapped beneath the wreckage. He steeled himself and continued running, guiding Riya through the labyrinth of destruction. Minutes felt like hours as they navigated the chaos, dodging falling debris and avoiding the deadly attacks of the winged invaders.

When their apartment building finally came into view, Vinay felt a flicker of hope. A cluster of Indian Army soldiers had set up a defensive perimeter around the building, directing civilians to take shelter in the underground parking area. Military vehicles were parked nearby, their mounted guns firing at the Equines in the sky. Explosions rang out as the soldiers fought valiantly to protect the colonists.

As Vinay and Riya approached the building, a familiar voice cut through the noise. “Vinay! Riya!”

Their mother’s voice was like a beacon, drawing their attention to where she stood amidst the crowd. She was waving frantically, her face pale with worry. Relief washed over Vinay as he saw her, but his joy was short-lived.

The soldiers near their mother were shouting at her to stay back, trying to prevent her from rushing forward. “It’s not safe, ma’am! Please, stay with the group and head to the shelter!” one of them barked.

Vinay and Riya started running toward her, tears streaming down their faces. “Mom!” they cried out in unison.

But before they could reach her, a deafening explosion erupted nearby. The force of the blast sent a shockwave rippling through the air, throwing Vinay and Riya several meters away. They hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of them.

Vinay’s ears rang, his vision swimming as he struggled to push himself up. His body ached, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. As his senses slowly returned, he turned toward where his mother had been.

What he saw made his blood run cold. The spot where his mother and the crowd had stood was now a massive crater, surrounded by scorched earth and scattered debris. Body parts and torn clothing littered the area, the aftermath of the explosion painting a grotesque picture of destruction.

“No…” Vinay whispered, his voice trembling. He crawled toward the crater, his body shaking with grief. “Mom… no…”

Before he could reach the edge, a new sound pierced the air – the distinctive sound of whooshing. Vinay turned to see a group of Equines with sharp horns on their foreheads. Unlike the winged ones, these creatures were firing plasma-like bolts of energy from their horns, targeting the soldiers. The blasts tore through vehicles and buildings, the relentless assault overwhelming the defenders.

Panic surged through Vinay as he remembered Riya. He scrambled to his feet, scanning the area frantically until he spotted her lying a short distance away. Her small body was still, her head resting in a pool of blood.

“Riya!” Vinay screamed, rushing to her side. He dropped to his knees and shook her gently. “Wake up, Riya! Please, wake up!”

Her face was pale, her eyes closed. A jagged piece of metal protruded from her temple, blood flowing freely from the wound. Vinay’s hands trembled as he pressed them to the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding.

“Riya, please… don’t leave me,” he sobbed, his voice breaking. He shook her again, but her body remained lifeless.

A soldier approached, his rifle slung over his shoulder. "बेटा, You need to get out of the line of fire!" He crouched beside Vinay, his expression grim as he assessed Riya’s condition. “I-...,” he stuttered. “I'm sorry, but she's gone.”

“No!” Vinay shouted, his voice raw with anguish. “She’s not gone! She just needs help! Please, help her!”

The soldier placed a hand on Vinay’s shoulder. “We need to move. It’s not safe here.”

Another explosion rocked the ground nearby, sending debris raining down around them. The soldier made a split-second decision, grabbing Vinay and lifting him off the ground.

“Let me go!” Vinay screamed, kicking and struggling against the soldier’s grip. “Riya! I can’t leave her!”

The soldier didn’t respond, his focus solely on getting Vinay to safety. He carried the boy toward the underground shelter, ignoring his cries and protests.

As they descended into the shelter, Vinay’s screams echoed in the enclosed space. “Riya!” he cried out one last time, his voice filled with despair. The door slammed shut behind them, cutting off the sounds of the battle above.

New Mumbai, Southwestern New Pangaea. September 11th, 2038. 1700 hours.

The sun was low in the afternoon sky, casting a hazy orange glow over the smoking ruins of New Mumbai. Dhani Mayadev sprinted down the cracked and scorched streets, his breath labored but his legs unwilling to stop. His mind raced faster than his body, each passing second amplifying his dread. News of the attack had reached him while he was at work in the cement factory on the outskirts of the colony. Without hesitation, he had abandoned his post, ignoring both his supervisor’s shouts and the soldiers’ warnings about entering the danger zone. Nothing mattered except reaching his family.

New Mumbai was a devastated. Buildings were reduced to skeletal frames, their walls peppered with shrapnel holes or entirely missing. The once-bustling streets were littered with rubble, charred vehicles, and the remnants of lives abruptly cut short. Military vehicles patrolled the area, and soldiers stood on street corners, some directing civilians to safe zones, others forming defensive positions in case the alien Equines returned. The air was heavy with the acrid stench of burning materials, mixed with the unmistakable metallic tang of blood. The wails of survivors echoed, mingling with the distant hum of generators and the shouted orders of officers enforcing martial law.

Dhani tried calling his wife and children as he weaved through the rubble, dodging hastily erected barricades and ignoring the soldiers ordering him to turn back. Each unanswered call felt like a punch to his gut. His wife’s phone rang out without response. His children’s numbers gave him only silence. His mind conjured the worst scenarios—scenarios he desperately tried to suppress.

His legs burned, and his lungs ached, but he didn’t stop. Adrenaline flooded his body, fueling his relentless pace. Every step brought him closer to their apartment, but the journey felt like an eternity.

When Dhani finally arrived at his apartment block, he froze, the scene before him stealing the breath from his lungs. The area looked like a battlefield. Multiple craters marred the roads, some still smoldering. Scorch marks painted the surrounding buildings, their shattered windows reflecting the destruction. The bodies of soldiers and civilians alike lay scattered, some covered with hastily draped tarps, others left exposed to the elements. The remnants of a collapsed market stall leaned precariously against a nearby wall, its wares crushed beneath concrete debris.

Soldiers and volunteers worked tirelessly, clearing rubble, recovering bodies, and setting up makeshift barricades. Medics moved from one injured person to the next, their hands stained with blood, their faces etched with exhaustion. Dhani’s heart clenched as he took it all in.

“Pooja! Vinay! Riya!” he shouted, his voice raw with desperation as he stumbled through the chaos. He searched every face, hoping to find the familiar features of his wife and children. No one answered.

A soldier noticed him and approached, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Sir, it’s not safe here. Civilians are being directed to the shelter in the underground parking lot. You might find your family there.”

Dhani nodded frantically, barely hearing the soldier’s words, and rushed toward the parking lot entrance.

The underground parking lot was a stark contrast to the devastation above. The fluorescent lights flickered, casting a pale glow over the rows of parked vehicles that had been pushed aside to make room for makeshift beds and medical stations. Hundreds of civilians crowded the space, their faces pale with shock, their voices hushed or trembling with fear.

Dhani began weaving through the crowd, calling out his family’s names. “Pooja! Vinay! Riya! Where are you?” His voice echoed in the enclosed space, drawing the weary glances of those around him. His search seemed endless, his hope dwindling with each unanswered call.

Finally, in a quieter corner of the shelter, he saw a familiar figure sitting on the cold concrete floor. It was his son, Vinay. The boy was alive but looked utterly broken. His clothes were torn and bloodstained, and his arms were wrapped tightly around his knees. His wide, unblinking eyes stared into the distance, red and raw from crying. Tracks of dried tears streaked his cheeks, but no fresh ones came—he had no more left to shed.

“Vinay!” Dhani rushed to his son, dropping to his knees in front of him. Relief flooded him momentarily as he placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Vinay, thank God you’re alive! Are you hurt? Where’s your mother? Where’s Riya?”

Vinay didn’t respond. His lips were slightly parted, but no words came. His gaze remained fixed on some invisible point in the distance, as if his mind had retreated far away from the horrors around him.

“Vinay, please!” Dhani’s voice cracked as he shook his son gently. “Tell me what happened! Where are they?”

The boy’s silence was like a dagger to Dhani’s heart. He looked around frantically for help and spotted a nearby medic. “Please!” he shouted, waving the medic over. “Something’s wrong with my son! He’s not responding! And my wife—my daughter—I can’t find them!”

The medic approached, her expression grave. She knelt beside Dhani and examined Vinay briefly, her voice soft but firm. “He’s in shock. He’s been through something traumatic. He needs time and care.”

“But my wife—my daughter—where are they?!” Dhani demanded, his voice rising.

The medic hesitated, her expression clouded. “I don’t know, sir. You should ask the soldiers—they might have records of the survivors.”

Dhani spent what felt like hours piecing together the truth from fragments offered by soldiers, medics, and other survivors. He learned about the explosion near the apartment garden. He learned about the crater it left—and the lives it took. Slowly, the horrifying realization sank in.

His wife and daughter were gone.

The weight of the loss crushed him, and he collapsed to his knees beside his son. His chest heaved with silent sobs, the kind that left his throat burning and his body trembling. If it weren’t for Vinay sitting beside him, alive but broken, Dhani wasn’t sure he would have the will to keep going.

He wrapped his arms around his son, holding him tightly as the grief consumed them both. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, his tears falling onto Vinay’s bloodstained hair. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to protect you. To protect them.”

The shelter buzzed with the sounds of the war-torn world above, but for Dhani and Vinay, time seemed to stand still. The battle had taken everything from them—everything except each other.

The universe is a cruel, uncaring void.

Author's Note

The most unrealistic part of this chapter is that they left their phones in their bags and decided to leave them behind.
No GenZ, Gen Alpha or Gen Beta would do that.

India is a rare country to feature in many sci-fi stories.
I have special plans for them.

I hope Gandhi is proud.