Submitted for the September 2025 prompt: Terrestrial Settings

Lieutenant Lee Paulson was holding a flush when their base commander entered the room.

 

“On your feet, soldiers. Game’s over.”

 

With an inward grimace, Paulson set down his winning hand and rose to attention. His flash of annoyance vanished when he saw the woman who followed the commander into the room — and the many stars that adorned her uniform.

 

Without preamble, the general said, “You two have just been selected for a special assignment, and it starts right now. Go change into night fatigues. Be back here in one minute. Go!”

 

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, Paulson and his poker opponent gave simultaneous “Yes, Sirs” from the back seat of a blacked-out Suburban, acknowledging that they understood what they’d just been told. Their instructions were simple enough. They were to guard two ends of a stretch of beach, maintaining the area’s privacy for several hours.

 

It sounded simple enough, but the extreme emphasis with which the general belabored the secrecy of the assignment felt daunting.

 

Adding to his anxiety was the fact that the closer they got to the coast, the surer Paulson became that they were headed to Neon Beach. That was the local nickname for a stretch of shoreline that had remained cordoned off for years following a chemical spill. It was a bad place to be — unless you were planning a covert operation.

 

Like a prisoner exchange?

 

Paulson shook his head, chasing the thought away. He didn’t need to know. In fact, he didn’t want to know.

 

* * *

 

Despite the clandestine nature of the assignment, Paulson found himself struggling to stay focused as the hours slipped by and the night dragged on. The sliver moon shed little light by which to see, and the rhythmic waves of the rising tide were a lullaby.

 

At the brink of dozing, the young lieutenant caught a flicker of movement in the shallows.

 

Instantly, he was wide awake. With his rifle at his shoulder and his heart in his throat, he crept toward the water’s edge, all too conscious of his isolated post. Being stationed as he was around the point that protected Neon Beach, he couldn’t see any of what was going on there, which suited him just fine. But… no one there could see him either. If armed frogmen were about to emerge on his position, he was on his own.

 

His fears were briefly allayed when he realized what he was seeing was a sea turtle, a mother intent on laying her eggs under the moonlight.

 

For a moment, Paulson felt a rush of anticipation. He’d always been a nature lover, and the chance to witness such a rare sight was thrilling.

 

Then he spotted the net.

 

Mere feet from the water’s edge, the turtle had become tangled in a fishing net. It labored quietly in the darkness, pawing futilely with its flippers and stretching for air between the crashing waves. With the tide coming in, its fate was sealed barring intervention… which Paulson would have been happy to provide had he been out for an evening stroll.

 

A moment later, the young man sloshed into the dark water, abandoning his post. He wasn’t at all sure it was the right choice, but standing there and watching the turtle drown was something he just couldn’t do.

 

Despite his sharp knife and strong arms, freeing the poor creature proved exceedingly difficult. The water was deeper than it looked, and the sandy bottom was soft and constantly shifting around his feet. The net was strong, and the turtle, oblivious to his good intentions, fought against his efforts, slapping him across the back with an oddly elongated flipper.

 

By the time the net finally fell away, both man and animal were half-drowned. Paulson was heaving for breath as he dragged himself back up onto the beach.

 

“On your feet, soldier,” spoke the general’s voice from the darkness.

 

As he struggled to compose himself, Paulson’s heart rate, which had just begun to settle, revved again. The reality of the situation was undeniable. He’d abandoned his post — and gotten caught.

 

“I’m sorry,” he sputtered, still barely able to speak. “There was a turtle. It was caught in a net. I thought I could just cut it loose. I didn’t think it would be so—”

 

“Lieutenant, stop talking.”

 

It was then that Paulson spotted the tall figure approaching the general from behind. At first, he thought to call out in warning, but that instinctive reaction was suppressed when he spotted more soldiers accompanying the… woman?

 

The figure approached with slow, graceful strides, her features hidden until she stood side by side with the general, who carried a small electric lantern.

 

Upon closer inspection, Paulson decided that while the figure was definitely female, she was not a woman. Not even close.

 

“Stay where you are, lieutenant,” warned the general. “Don’t freak out.”

 

That proved easier said than done when something cold and clammy touched Paulson’s hand. It took every ounce of discipline in him not to scream when he turned and spotted the source of the contact.

 

Standing next to him was a smaller version of the strange creature. Water beaded on the surface of its shell as it gave his hand a gentle squeeze that was both cool and warm at the same time.

 

* * *

 

As he watched the visitor’s ship ascend silently just before sunrise, Paulson shook his head in disbelief.

 

Smiling, the general said, "Well, soldier, now you know the real reason this beach is off-limits."

 

“I thought I was rescuing a mother turtle.”

 

“Actually,” said the general, “the mothers laid their eggs just down the beach. The one you freed was a juvenile. After hatching, they spend their first five years at sea — here and at hundreds of other planets around the galaxy — before joining their kind among the stars.

 

“So… congratulations, kid. You just became the first human to save an alien.”