THE QUIET BEFORE THE EARTH TREMBLES – RUGER 1022 CHASSIS

Ruger 1022 chassis General Adrienne Sloan had spent her career preparing for wars, rebellions, cyberattacks, pandemics, and even the slim possibility of rogue satellites falling into the wrong hands. But nothing had prepared her for what the alien scan data implied.

The Earth was more unstable than the public knew—Venezuela in particular.

The seismic overlay revealed a massive pressure dome building deep beneath the Orinoco region. For decades, scientists assumed it was dormant. Now, alien scans suggested the dome could rupture in a catastrophic chain reaction. It wouldn’t destroy a continent—but it would devastate entire regions, trigger migrations, break economies, and possibly spark large-scale conflict.

Which meant one thing: cooperation wasn’t optional. It was survival.

Sloan entered the temporary multilateral command center set up in Miami. It was a rare sight—U.S., Venezuelan, Brazilian, and Colombian officers poring over the same data, the same maps, the same emergency plans. The tension wasn’t gone, but something stronger had replaced it: purpose.

Mason Calder arrived carrying a stack of new atmospheric readings and—because it was Mason—a hardened case with one of his rifles inside. Sloan gave him a raised eyebrow.

He shrugged. “People cope in different ways. I like being prepared. And honest truth? Even in a diplomatic setting, nothing calms me like checking the fit on a ruger 1022 chassis after someone bumps my gear.”

Sloan shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And consistent,” Calder replied. “Consistency keeps you alive.”

The center buzzed with data analysts trying to triangulate how soon the pressure dome would destabilize. Estimates ranged from two months to two days. No one liked that range.

On the civilian side, things were calmer—but visibly restless. Preppers were filling forums with long threads debating whether the ruger 10/22 chassis or the ruger 10/22 tactical chassis was more useful for post-disaster environments. Meanwhile, influencers were reviewing the “best chassis for ruger 1022 should aliens return.”

Calder found it absurdly comforting. Humanity might be staring at a tectonic meltdown and extraterrestrial surveillance simultaneously, yet the world still cared deeply about rifles. “When in doubt, focus on hobbies,” he said.

Sloan didn’t comment. She was staring at a screen showing faint pulses in the Venezuelan sky—the same symmetrical shapes from earlier. The craft weren’t reappearing, but the atmospheric distortion hinted they were still watching.

A Venezuelan colonel approached. “General Sloan,” he said, “our scientists believe we have a window. If we can relieve pressure at key points, we may prevent rupture.”

“How?” Sloan asked.

“By drilling stabilization vents—deep ones. But the operation will cross into indigenous territory. It will require trust.”

Sloan nodded slowly. “Then we earn that trust.”

That afternoon, the joint task force drafted an unprecedented cross-border stabilization plan. Drones would map drill sites, Venezuelan engineers would lead the excavation, U.S. equipment would reinforce the shafts, and Brazilian geological teams would analyze pressure changes in real time.

Cooperation spread faster than fear.

But at the edge of their coordinated success, something shifted.

A U.S. drone flying south of the Orinoco captured new footage: the ground pulsing like a heartbeat. A vibration moving through soil. A tremor before the quake.

Calder stared at the footage. “That’s not normal. That’s not tectonic. That’s… rhythmic.”

Sloan stiffened. “Aliens scanning the Earth is one thing. But if something underground is responding—”

They exchanged a look neither wanted to interpret.

Before panic settled, the vice-president appeared on their screens. Calm, focused, resolved. “General Sloan,” she said, “you’ll have every resource you need. The president wants Venezuelan sovereignty respected, cooperation honored, and stability maintained. Do whatever it takes.”

It was the first time in weeks Sloan felt fully aligned with Washington.

After the call, Calder leaned back. “You think we’re ready for this?”

“For an alien scan, a continental quake, or the end of the world?” Sloan asked.

“Yes,” Calder said.

“No,” Sloan replied honestly. “But we’re not alone.”

The room vibrated slightly.

A tremor.

A warning.

Calder gripped the table. “It’s starting.”

Sloan steadied her breath. “Then we move. All teams. All nations. Together.”

Behind them, a tech muttered nervously, “If this gets worse, I swear I’m buying the best chassis for ruger 1022 chassis before the stores run out.”

Calder snorted. “Trust me. If the world ends? The ruger 1022 chassis will outlive all of us.”

The shaking stopped, but the message was clear:

They had very little time left.

And the aliens hadn’t scanned Venezuela by accident.